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Chapter Text

"Pathetic?" Shuichi scoffed, utterly exhausted and at the end of his rope. Ouma's little pranks were one thing, but this ... His whole scheme involving Gonta, his cheap provocations all throughout the trial, punching Kaito....Today he'd crossed the line. "Look at yourself, Kokichi."

"...What?" Ouma, who up until now maintained a carefree expression, suddenly stopped laughing. His eyes widened as he absorbed the detective's words like a bitter medicine, necessary, but barely palatable. Studying his face, he couldn’t help but notice a strange, unpleasant feeling begin to take root in his chest. Why does it have to be Shuichi?

From everyone else, he'd expected this. He’d worked for  this. But for these words to come out of Shuichi, of all people... The way he glared at him, his gray-yellow eyes still a little red from crying...it was enough to make the leader's resolve falter.

"Kaito always has us by his side, see?" Shuichi continued in an even voice, gesturing to the Ultimate Astronaut as everyone helped him to his feet. Against his better judgment, Kokichi's eyes flitted to the scene.

And there Kaito was, surrounded by love and affection, everyone's eyes and voices dripping with worry as they frantically checked his wounds. Even the lazy little mage girl was taking action for once.

Ha, what a laugh.

But the astronaut trainee was waving them away all the same, sporting a forced smile for their benefit. Overwhelmed by the attention, but still grateful for their concern.

"..."

Kokichi inhaled sharply, his lips tightening into a thin line.

"But no one wants to be around you ." The detective's voice, bold and frigid, commanded his attention back, placing special emphasis on the final word. Standing there frozen, Kokichi wondered if maybe Himiko's magic was real after all. Because surely, it wasn’t the timid Saihara's gaze that kept his feet firmly planted in the ground.

"..." Shuichi closed his eyes for a second and sighed, trying to calm the seething anger that boiled just beneath the surface of his pale skin. Calm the torrential storm on the verge of exploding from within... But when he opened them back up to see Kokichi stare at him with innocent eyes, a pointed index finger grazing his left cheek, the detective snapped.

"You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will  be."

As if on cue, the petite boy smiled back at him, interlocking his fingers behind his head and tilting his face angelically. "Ah-haha! You’re talking about friends?" He laughed, without missing a beat, hoping desperately that the noise would drown out the overwhelming sound of his pounding heart. "Friends don’t make this game more entert–"

Kokichi paused, watching for the detective's reaction only to realize that Shuichi would no longer give him the satisfaction.

"..."

After this, Shuichi would probably never talk to him again...

All at once, his beating heart stilled. Kokichi dropped his playful demeanor, slumping his small shoulders and slipping into a more natural, yet all the same unreadable expression. "Geez," He began, his voice completely devoid of all its initial pep, "boooring. I'm no longer interested."

Staring blankly at the detective, Kokichi wondered what he ever saw in him. What was it that charmed him so when no one and nothing else could?

Was it because Shuichi always put up with his antics? Because unlike the others, Shuichi never treated him like just another goddamn nuisance that wouldn’t go away? Or was it  simpler than that? Like the cute way he puffed out his chest when he felt particularly confident? Or the gentle clumsiness with which he bandaged his wound following the Knife Game incident?

No, it was something much simpler than any of those things. Because even now, towards Shuichi, he was still...

The leader sighed. "I don’t care anymore..."

There were many words Kokichi could think of to describe the unpleasant feeling that blossomed within his constricting rib cage.

Emptiness, heartbreak, dejection ...

But none of those seemed to fit quite right.

Betrayal .

He almost laughed at the absurdity of his mind's answer. Who really betrayed who, though?

Kokichi felt the corners of his lips begin to twitch upward just thinking about it.

If I asked Saihara now, I wonder how he’d respond...

Taking a step closer to the taller boy, Kokichi gathered up all his remaining energy, and whispered menacingly in Saihara's ear, "But I will tell you this..."

He then retreated back for his grand finale, lowering his head, and slipping into a familiar smirk –a perfectly practiced smirk that was enough to make Shuichi flinch. And raising his left hand for a wicked toast, Kokichi slipped on his most sickening mask yet, eyes buggy as a toothy grin stretched from ear to ear, completing his haunting sneer. "The one who will win this game...is me."

And with that, Kokichi was gone, leaving Shuichi to wonder how such a small body could harbor so much malice and ill-intent. What the hell is wrong with him?

"..." Shuichi shook his head, the start of a migraine hammering softly at the back of his skull. He was too tired to think about Kokichi and his lies and the all pure, unbridled insanity that shined in his eyes.

And then there was the astronaut. Right, Kaito!

Momentarily forgetting his anger for Kokichi, the detective rushed to his best friend's side and knelt down to check for injuries. "Kaito, are you okay?"

Some blood noticeably peaked out the Ultimate Astronaut's mouth, sending a flurry of panic through Shuichi's body. Did Kokichi really punch him THAT hard?  From this angle, he couldn’t really–

Kaito groaned, snapping the detective out of his inner thoughts. Sweat grazed and dripped down his lightly raised brow, licking gently at his sickly-white face.

He didn’t face his sidekick.

"Hey, Kaito...?" Shuichi tried again, waving a hand before his best friend's eyes while his own were swimming with worry. He didn’t hear Maki shuffle over to them. At least, not until she'd placed a warm hand on his shoulder and gently nudged him aside. Her black skirt fluttered as she crouched down to get a better look at the Luminary of the Stars' paling face and reached out to cup his cheek.

"I-I'm okay..." Kaito sputtered, pushing her hand away. "It's fine..."

But that was a lie. The Hero wasn't fine , and Shuichi and Maki knew it. Skipping training, always holing himself up in his dorm.... I’m an idiot for not noticing sooner.

"C-C'mon, I'll help you back to your dorm," Shuichi offered his shoulder. He’d already forgotten about their little spat during the trial and just wanted to help, but–

"I can walk on my own." Kaito affirmed, not meeting his eyes. "I don’t need your help...Shuichi."

A cold sensation ran through the detective's body.  Why...? Why was Kaito refusing his help? Refusing to even look him in the eyes?  Their fight wasn’t *that* big a deal.. . was it?

Shuichi found himself wanting to reach out, to try again, but without the astronaut's usual encouragement, hesitated.

Even Maki's expression darkened upon observing the two, and as Kaito attempted to make good on his word and stumble back to the dorms on his own, she quietly promised Shuichi she’d look after him.

And Shuichi was grateful, sure, but even more than that, he.... he’d wanted to be the one to say that.

It was selfish and stupid, but it was the truth .

And suddenly, despite there still being three other people in the room, Shuichi felt very, very alone.

Chapter Text

You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

Kokichi gritted his teeth as the elevator whirred to life and began its ascent. He could still vaguely hear the voices of his classmates murmuring quietly below, probably fawning all over that pathetic, bullshitting phony. Even though he was willing to let them all die in order to uphold his own twisted sense of righteousness, the hero was still the hero, huh?

Idiots.

The leader scoffed, rolling his eyes as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through his veins.

Friendship sure is magic, isn't it?

Pathetic.

No matter how many times they'd been betrayed, the echo chamber of idiots still seemed intent on clinging to pretty words like 'trust' and 'belief'' as though such nonsense would resolve their current situation. They were all content to just idle and sing kumbaya with the hope that everything would somehow work itself out.

And no matter how many times Kokichi had tried to open their eyes, tried to prove that their line of thinking was fundamentally flawed, they refused to confront the ugly truth of the matter –the truth that they were contestants in a killing game, not some shitty reality dating show. It was a game of deceit and suspicion, meant to bring out the worst in them and prove that everyone has a breaking point. Even the seemingly kindest person in the world would kill if given enough incentive, just look at Gon–

Kokichi paused, reconsidering as the low buzzing of hundreds of tiny hornets thrummed through his skull louder than a rock concert. 

–Akamatsu. Just LOOK at Akamatsu. 

She...whatever. 

It wasn't like it mattered anyway, not when nine people were dead and nobody had learned a thing. 

"..." The leader sighed, trying to calm the restless energy stirring inside of him. What he would give to be as delusional as the rest of them, happily frolicking and playing friends instead of working on increasingly convoluted plans to save all their useless, ungrateful asses. Life really was ridiculously unfair. 

The only other person who showed signs of possessing any kind of brains in the group was Saihara. But today, he too had proved himself to be a lost cause. First, by rejecting his offer to cooperate in ending this cruel game and then–

–You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

"Shit." The leader squeaked, biting just a tad too hard into the soft tissue of his already thoroughly chewed thumb. He watched as blood pooled and bloomed from the tiny puncture, snaking down his finger to his wrist and staining the white cuff of his uniform in the vile substance's vibrant color. Thick, and warm and disgustingly sticky.

The sight of it was repulsive, an unwelcome reminder that the next body discovery announcement was always just beyond the next corner. That that was simply just how things went down in a game like this. Actually, as a matter of fact, the only blood that had been shed to date without much consequence was his own. It was exceedingly hilarious, really. The floorboard incident, the way Saihara had bandaged his stupid little finger –all he could do was laugh.

Back then, the detective really was an interesting individual...

And he still is, Kokichi's mind mocked, sparing no consideration or mercy for the night. *You're* the one who's gotten boring.

A sudden chill ran up the leader’s spine, shaking him back to reality. Reality, where his blood continued inconsequentially to seep into white fabric.

Reality, where soon enough, it’d soak his entire uniform. What would Saihara say then? Hmm?

The thought made his heart race. Or maybe, that was still just a result of the adrenaline rush. But either way–

I really hate this stupid elevator.

The doors opened not a moment later and finally, Kokichi felt like he could breathe again. Even if it was all fake, borrowed air.

Stumbling out of the elevator, he almost face-planted onto the pavement below, suddenly feeling the weight of all those sleepless nights come back to haunt him. But luckily, the leader was able to catch himself before doing any more damage to his body tonight, and, sighing a breath of relief, proceeded to quickly straighten up. Safe. 

Still, that didn't stop his tired body from complaining and begging fervently for sleep, didn't stop it from trembling lightly in meek protest. But he could deal with that later. He still had things to do tonight; items to retrieve, and updates to add to both his whiteboard and notebook of evil plans. A couple of stiff shoulders and elongating eye bags were the least of his concerns. For now-

I can’t afford to waste any more time. I’m so close.

They were already nine people down, only seven remaining. And at the rate things were going, they’d be down to only five within the next four days...

He needed to finish prepping before that.

And so, willing his body to still, Kokichi raised his head and flashed a Cheshire grin for the adoring audience, who knew nothing about what was to come. 

It’s time to end this.

Overflowing determination burned in the leader's violet eyes as he forced one foot in front of the other all the way down the Ultimate Inventor's Lab.

Focus. Persist. Overcome.

Kokichi repeated the words like a mantra as the cool night air brushed up against his scorching skin. Focus on your objective. Persist when times are tough. And overcome any obstacle in your path. Things will work out this time. They have to.

All the blood and tears shed, all the sacrifices made –it couldn’t all be for nothing. No, he wouldn’t allow it to become meaningless. He’d broken his moral code to get this far, betraying his own family and feelings all for this one opportunity. This once in a lifetime chance. 

I won't waste it.

Steeling himself, the leader pushed past the Research Lab's doors in a grand motion and  immediately got to searching. He needed to hurry and retrieve the items as soon as possible lest anyone chance a glance in his direction and grow curious by the light. 

I just hope that dumb cumslut actually *finished* everything I asked her for.

Pushing forward, Kokichi made his way over to the rightmost table, which Iruma had proclaimed -very haughtily-  to be her desk on the day he’d first gone to her with his request. And, sure enough, there, scattered messily amongst all kinds of other notes and design plans, were his blueprints, noting all the adjustments and changes she’d made to the original designs in a surprisingly succinct amount of detail. 

But of course, the Ultimate Inventor, or rather, Ultimate Horny Scatterbrain, only left *that* in plain sight. So now, still running on limited time and negative sleep, Kokichi had the additional pleasure of going on a late-night scavenger hunt. Just great.

Letting out a much-needed sigh, the leader closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and focused. Now, where did you hide everything?

Carefully scanning the room, he promptly located an average-sized square-shaped box lurking suspiciously in the back-left corner of the lab. Upon closer inspection, several tools and strange objects protruded from the holes of the crate, signaling to the leader that it might actually be worth investigating. And so, after taking swift strides over to it, he peered down and began assessing its contents from a bird's eye view.

Hmm? What *do* we have here?  He questioned, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right, the shine of something round and very...pink catching his eye. Bingo. 

Rummaging through the various parts and tools Iruma had tossed together, Kokichi managed to fish out several palm-sized objects, each bearing the famed whore's signature rat stamp.

Electrobombs, Kokichi's mind supplied as he plucked one from his pile and spun it playfully between his fingers. Five, by the looks of it.

"Good." The leader couldn't help but smile at the ugly little mouse. While he'd only requested she make him three, getting five bombs meant he had room to perform a test run.

Not that he really doubted the she-pig's talent, but she had just recently tried to kill him. Who was to say she hadn’t set up another trap before kicking the bucket?

Then again, this *is* Miu we're talking about. The leader shrugged, smugly shaking his head from side to side. While he'd be the first to admit that she was good at making shit and moaning during Keeboy's maintenance, Iruma wasn't the most, well, bright individual when it came to scheming. Honestly, he probably had nothing to worry about. 

Still, Kokichi pocketed one of the bombs anyway. (Juuust in case, y'know?) 

He then tucked the other four away safely, and proceeded to stand up, mentally crossing off the item from his list. One down, three to go.

Thankfully, his next discovery was made not long after the previous; in a rather sketchy storage closet at the back-right end of the Ultimate Inventor's lab, lay six devices in the shape of large mallets –devices that Kokichi had officially dubbed the electrohammers. And while they were quite similar to the electrobombs in that they were also meant to disturb electronic signals, Kokichi had a slightly different use for them in mind... Nee-heehee.

Closing the door on the pinkish blue hammers, he crossed the second item off of his imaginary list. Two down, two to go!

He was making good progress so far, and though the room was starting to sway, Kokichi persisted.

Two minutes...

Five minutes...

Ten minutes...

And still no remote or Bugvac in sight.

"Hey bitchlet, where did you..."

And then he saw it. Wedged between what could only be described as two of Miu's more self-indulgent inventions, was a remote control the size of an old cassette tape, meant to be used on the five receivers she'd supplied to him just days prior.

"Aw, yuck! Damn slut!" Kokichi cringed, gingerly pulling the small device out of its...unenviable position with his right index finger and thumb. Shuddering, he then proceeded to bring it up to his eye for inspection, all the while simultaneously cursing his rotten luck. "Ugh, you better not be giving me an STD from beyond the grave."

...At a quick glance, the remote didn’t seem to be covered in any odd residual substances, but Kokichi concluded it’d still be best to wash his hands once he returned to his dorm anyways.

Ergh! The leader shivered, shoving the device into his free pocket. That’s three down –four, if you include a part of my sanity. All that’s left is...

"The Bugvac!" He cried aloud, spotting the oddly shaped invention amongst an array of half-filled test tubes and flasks on the workbench across from him. Finally. Now I can– 

But with his next step forward, a sudden wave of dizziness rushed over the leader.

Shi–

And, the next thing he knew, his body was hitting the floor with a soft thud. 

"Argh, shit!" Kokichi groaned, wincing and pushing himself up while every muscle in his tiny body scream in protest. "Hold on for just a bit longer, will you!?"  

The last thing he needed was to collapse now, when he was mere moments away from finishing up and high-tailing it back to his dorm.

You're the Ultimate Supreme Leader, dammit! Quit letting something so *pathetic* as a lack of sleep defeat you! 

"Haha..." A growing smirk took over his lips as he shifted and grabbed at the nearest counter to help heave himself up. "Hahaha..."

Ahahahahaha! 

Finally back on his feet, the leader couldn't help but let out a triumphant laugh. "Haha, didn't you know that overcoming trivial crap like this is what it means to be a leader, Mr. Detective?" Wiping the sweat from his brow, he located his final target of the night and braced himself. "That right there, is the difference between us."

Pushing off the countertop, Kokichi staggered over to claim his last prize, and, with all the confidence in the world, sneered, "gotcha!"

But, (and man, why did there always have to be a but???) he realized a little too late that the device he was handling had yet to be completed. And as several screws hit the floor with a cacophony of familiar metallic clinks, Kokichi felt his very soul depart from his body.

"An unfinished prototype, huh..." He mouthed half-heartedly and let out a deep sigh. This night just keeps getting better and better.

After painstakingly collecting the run-away screws, the leader rose to his tired feet once more and pulled out the blueprint for the Bugvac. Laying it on a free area of the table, Kokichi carefully read over the inventor's added notes and hummed quietly to himself. "Well, I think I can at least finish it on my own..."

He turned his head towards the device to assess it, and watched as it soon became two, then three, then four and shook his head. "Tomorrow." He could do that tomorrow.

Steadying himself on the workbench, he waited for the episode of dizziness to pass, then at last, at long last, he dragged his exhausted body back to the dormitories.

However, pushing the door open, he was surprised to see Saihara, of all people, lingering outside his room and staring aimlessly at the wall. It was such a rare sight that for a moment, the leader forgot himself and without meaning to, accidentally let a soft, "ah," slip.

Saihara then blinked at him for a good second, his tired honey eyes completely blank, and devoid of any sort of recognition. After another few seconds, the detective then let out his own, "ah," finally registering Ouma's presence in the entryway. Almost instantaneously, his mood worsened, the tiny leader's deranged laughter still beating like a drum at the back of his skull even hours past the trial's conclusion. Man...why did it have to be Ouma of all people to catch him like this? Shuichi wondered, the dull headache he’d been trying to shake  off for the past hour or so now starting to pound anew.

The universe must surely be plotting against him.

Come to think of it actually, Shuichi pondered, subconsciously planting a hand to his chin, I thought he'd come back here right after the trial but...? Tilting his head, he observed that the leader was still in uniform. Strange. "You're back....late."

Suspicious. If his face didn’t already give it away, his tone of voice certainly did. 

Kokichi just rolled his eyes, summoning a last, non-existent burst of energy along with his signature smirk. "Why," he teased, stepping closer, "did you miss me?"

But as expected, Shuichi didn’t take the bait and simply continued staring at the boy quizzically. And normally, the leader would revel in such undivided attention from his beloved, but right now, the detective's silent stare was anything but kind.

Kokichi sighed. "If your not going to answer me, then I’ll be heading to my secret lair now." Yikes. The leader couldn’t help but recoil internally at his throat's betrayal. That sounded deader than... Whatever. Why do I even care?

Brushing past Saihara, he attempted to make a beeline for his room, only to feel himself getting tugged back before even taking three steps. "Yes..?" The leader cocked his head, hoping that the alarm bells going off didn't show on his face. God, he was trying so hard to keep up the playful act, but even he had limits.

"I– What're you scheming Kokichi?" Shuichi sputtered, trying his best to stay focused despite his racing mind. He’d managed to solve a lot of mysteries tonight, but still couldn’t quite seem to figure out the enigma that was Kokichi Ouma.

"Nee-heehee, are you suuure you wanna know, Saihara?" The enigma grinned, the same creepy, sadistic smile stretching across his face as always. He then leaned in close, too close, for Shuichi's liking anyway, and whispered, "I’ll have to kill you right after."

The statement sent a shiver down the detective's spine, Ouma's warm breath on his neck a more potent freezing device than fresh ice from the arctic.

It took Shuichi a moment to regain his composure. But, when he did, all he could manage to heave was a defeated sigh. "I don’t know what else I was expecting." The detective muttered, shaking his head in exasperation and slamming the door to his room behind him.

Kokichi couldn’t tell if he was more disappointed or frustrated after that exchange, but hey, it wasn’t like it mattered anyway, right? Just the way Saihara had shifted uncomfortably when he’d first noticed him standing there was enough for Kokichi to confirm he’d meant every word of their earlier exchange.

You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

"So what?" Kokichi grumbled quietly, still standing outside of Saihara's dorm. Who the hell cares what Shuichi thinks anyway?

He stomped up the stairs, feeling his heart pound in his ears. Maybe I prefer to be alone. Did you ever think about *THAT* Mr. Detective??

Jamming his key into the door, the leader scowled. Why did it irritate him so much? This was all part of the plan! It wasn’t like he’d excluded Saihara from the list of people meant to hate him, so...why did it bother him so much that he did?

Closing and locking the door behind him, Kokichi leaned back and let out a long breath, allowing his legs to turn to jelly. He sank down against the cool, metallic door and stared up blankly at the ceiling, the day's events washing over him like a tsunami.

He was so tired. Of all of it. The constant smell of death behind every corner, the awful trials that followed... The state of the outside world.

"Heh, I wonder what kind of face Saihara’ll make when he sees it?" Kokichi chuckled to himself. If he doesn’t hate me with all his heart now, that’ll definitely do it.

The leader could just imagine it –the shock and horror on the detective's face as he realized that all that awaited them on the outside was ruin. And, when he did, the leader would follow his cue and pop out to laugh at him, laugh at the notion that Saihara –or any of them for that matter, expected anything more. Then, he’d put on his greatest performance yet, taking the stage as the cruel and evil mastermind who’d made them dance like puppets in the palm of his hand.

Haha...

It was an ambitious lie –Kokichi would be the first to admit it, but after all the work he’d put in to make it believable, he couldn’t back out now. He was going to end this killing game –by any means necessary, once and for all.

Chapter Text

Shuichi flopped down face-first on the bed and groaned. What a night.

He hadn’t even gone to training this evening (for obvious reasons), yet every muscle in his body pulsed, and screamed as though he’d done double the reps . In a way, he had, in fact, worked much harder than usual tonight; doing his best to remain calm while combatting the expectant states of his classmates in a scramble to reach an unforgiving truth.

A miserable truth that, yet again, nobody wanted.

Least of all, himself.

All that work...and this was the result? 

…

Maybe Kaito was right after all. Maybe they should’ve just quit and voted incorrectly on purpose back there. Or better yet, refused to have voted at all. At least then, they could have had some closure, could've died with some peace of mind knowing that they had refused to give in to the Mastermind's game any longer. They could've lived out their final moments free, and happy, knowing that even if it wasn't the ideal solution, they'd won.

But now...now it was much too late for any of that. Like he'd already done three times prior, Shuichi went and declared his verdict, and like a shepherd, herded everyone to the same, awful conclusion. Well...

Everyone, except for one person.

… 

How did things turn out like this?

Shuichi wondered, closing his eyes with the half-baked hope that it’d soften his migraine. Too many things had happened...had fallen apart tonight. And more than anything right now, Shuichi wished that he could turn back the clock. Go back to the beginning and warn his past self of everything to come, of everything he’d be damned to do.

Maybe then, he’d have an easier time accepting things as they were.

…

No. Shuichi's mind protested, rejecting the mere thought. That's wrong. I...I don’t think I’d ever accept this.  

Opening his eyes, the detective knew it was true. If he knew back then what he knew now...there’s no way he’d just stand by idly, no way he'd just let fate run its course as it pleased. 

No, he’d do anything. Anything and everything he could to change their destiny.

No matter what it took.

Momentarily unburying his face from the sheets, Shuichi shot a glance at the clock.

11:47 p.m.

Looked like for now at least, he was out of luck.

Sighing, the detective turned over on his side and allowed his mind to fade to blank. He didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to risk unearthing yet another ugly truth.

And even though it made him happy that his friends trusted his judgements, believed in the conclusions he’d reached, the truth was...

Shuichi wished he wasn’t the Ultimate Detective.

Suspecting others and exposing their crimes...

Sending more and more friends to their death with a few words and the unceremonious push of a button...

It was scary how much influence that measly title gave him. And even though he’d been getting by alright so far, there was always the possibility of screwing up the next time and killing them all.

No pressure, they’d say while nonchalantly leaving their precious lives in his hands. We trust you. You're the Ultimate Detective, after all.

…

Shuichi could feel the pain in his head ebbing and flowing, much like the waves had that time he and his uncle drove out to sea on an infidelity case. Rhythmically, it came and went, dredging up all the old insecurities he kept buried deep inside, and depositing them in his conscious mind where he no longer could ignore them.

What if you get it wrong next time? What if your words doom them all?

What if you can’t find the truth? Or, what if you somehow run out of time before you can say it?

… What if you find the truth, but that truth is best left unspoken?

Hey...what then?

There were people who were counting on him, people who relied on his words. So, if and when the next time comes, he needs to make the right decision. 

But...what if he doesn’t?

What if he messes up big time and screws them all?

Would they blame him?

Would they go out with scorn in their hearts and label him as their murderer?

Would they even have the decency to look him in the eye one last time?

Would he them?

Shuichi didn’t know. He couldn't know -wouldn’t know, until that time was upon them.

Sitting up in his bed, he once again looked over at the clock.

1:47 a.m. 

And he had yet to sleep a wink.

I wonder how everyone else is doing... 

In particular, Shuichi pictured the astronaut, his face pale and worn, fresh blood coating his chapped lips as he trembled meekly on the trial ground floor. He’d claimed that he was fine, that it was just a cold, but Shuichi knew that the only person he was really fooling was the naïve Keebo. And perhaps, himself. 

Kaito, he...he wasn’t okay. He was most probably dying, judging by the amount of blood he spat up back there.

It was unlikely that he’d make it out of this alive.

I don’t need your help...Shuichi.

"..." Clenching a fistful of sheets, Shuichi couldn’t help but wonder if those were the last words he'd ever hear his friend speak. His cold expression, the last he'd ever make for him. 

Since you're my sidekick, there's nothing to worry about. 

…It was like Kaede all over again. Befriending him, then encouraging him, only to abandon him at the very end. Shuichi could already hear it, the sound of Monokuma's gleeful voice as he announced the discovery of a fresh corpse in the dormitories... 

It was enough to make the detective's blood run cold.

1:59 a.m. 

The clock marched on.

Has it really been over ten minutes? 

Has it really been only ten minutes?

In Shuichi's head, it had felt like five. And yet, each of those five had dragged on for their own separate eternities.

It was much like the Killing Game itself, actually. They'd only been at it for two weeks and yet, it felt like several months had already passed them by. 

The physical and emotional tolls were just that bad, Shuichi supposed. Although they did seem to be affecting some people more than others.

Ah-hahahaha! 

Shuichi heaved a frustrated sigh. Kokichi was honestly the last person he wanted to think about right now.

And yet, like a parasite, the leader ate up at his frontal lobe, plaguing it with his malicious laughter and twisted smiles. 

The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it. 

Those words sent a chill down the detective's spine, wrapping around his brain like a crown of thorns and enshrouding it in a thick and endless fog. Shuichi felt as though his head had been plunged underwater, his body quickly following suite and sinking to the bottom of the sea. The pressure was increasing with every passing second, and soon, it'd become too overwhelming to swim against.

Too difficult to even breathe.

Maybe I’ll go for a walk...

Maybe that was all he needed for now -a walk, and some fresh air to de-fog his muddled brain. Maybe that would help distract him from the day's proceedings and, perhaps if he was lucky, would lull him into a gentle sleep where he didn’t have to think about any of it. Not the trials, not his classmates. Not any of the problems that seemed to be increasingly piling up as the days in this wretched academy went on...

Momentary respite -that was all he asked for. 

Rising from his bed, Shuichi dragged his ragged body out to main entrance, taking one zombie-like step after another. He was so tired that experience barely even felt real, and left him wondering how he’d even managed to make it out of his room so quickly.

The thought of locking the door hadn’t even crossed his mind when suddenly, a wave of fresh pain crashed against his brittle skull, halting his drunken steps. Shuichi grimaced, a hand flying to the source of pain and massaging it. He leaned back against the wall and cursed. Damn head.

Quickly forgetting his bright idea of going outside, the detective uttered a low groan and let himself sink. At this point, becoming one with the wall didn't seem like such a half-bad option. And so, content to just exist in the entryway, Shuichi relaxed and let his pulsing mind drift aimlessly.

Staring listlessly up at the ceiling, he, for some reason, caught himself thinking of Angie and her student council, the self-proclaimed guardians of the night. Had they not disbanded following the artist's death, they’d certainly be scolding him for lingering outside his room like this...

Haah...

As annoying as their rules were, Shuichi missed them. Missed their positive attitudes and unbreakable spirits. Their constant energy and determination to prevent future killings, even at the expense of their own sleep.  

They were twelve, back then. They still had hope –a burning dream that this killing game would end with Ryoma and Kirumi's deaths.

Now though, with Miu and Gonta gone, they were only seven. And that initial hope that this would all soon come to an end was long extinguished.

I’m tired of this.

Shuichi hated that he was growing accustomed to it, hated that he could no longer see any other end than the one Monokuma had designed for them, but it was the truth. Nine of his friends had already died, so it was useless to even try denying it at this point. This killing game was going to keep going and going until there was no one left to cry over. No one left at all.

Consumed by his thoughts, the detective hadn’t even noticed the front door creak open. Nor did he notice the small figure that slipped through until the leader let out a tiny squeak from right under him.

"Ah."

And instantly, his migraine went from bad to worse. Memories of Ouma's crazed expressions and harsher-than-life words surfaced, and stagnated the air between them, leaving nothing left to breathe but the silence. Shuichi couldn't help but stare at the leader, having not even been granted that in the deep recesses of his mind. Because even though Ouma had yet to articulate a full word, Shuichi still heard his deranged, psychotic laughter ringing dully in both ears. 

…He really had rotten luck. 

Thankfully, their interaction had been brief, however, it still managed to leave the detective reeling as he slammed the door and staggered over to his bed.

Why is he like that?! Shuichi wondered with furrowed brows, lying flat on his back while his legs dangled off the side of his bed. How can he just...just smile like we *didn't* sentence another friend to their death tonight?!

It didn’t make sense. Ouma didn't make sense.

And although it'd be bold of Shuichi to claim he ever once fully understood the leader, he thought that by now, he’d at least come to understand him a little.

It was just that-

"Wait! If you’re gonna punish him, then please...punish me too."

-he'd looked so sincere while crying and begging Monokuma...

"W-Wait, please! I don’t want this! Don’t go, Gonta!"

And yet again, as Gonta's fate was finally sealed and the entomologist was dragged away.

But then–

"Ah-hahahaha! Oh man, did you fall for that fake crying?"

–he laughed.

"Who cares about that idiot?"

Shuichi huffed, grabbing a pillow from overhead and hugging it tightly to his chest as he curled into a little ball. To think that for a second he believed that Kokichi was genuinely sad, genuinely hurt by the outcome of this case.

…It seemed like his detective's intuition still needed some work.

Burying his face into the pillow, Shuichi muffled a heavy sigh. "I don’t understand him..."

At what point did the truth end and the lies begin?

At what point had Ouma swept them all up in his nasty little game? This cruel little puppet show?

…

…

…

Wait-

The thought gave the detective pause.

"A show...huh..."

He hadn’t really thought about it before, but Ouma was always very dramatic in all of their interactions. Excessively so, Shuichi thought, constantly making a point of being unreasonably loud and expressive, popping all his p's and tacking on his signature laugh at the end of every other sentence... It was almost as though...he wasn’t just performing for his own amusement and that of the other students.

Yes ...

Because, for as far as Shuichi could recall, Ouma tended to speak as though whoever was physically there, in his presence, was never truly the only one listening.

Not...the only one listening...?

Interesting...

Hooked that the train of thought, Shuichi sat up and leaned against the bed's headboard, face still half-buried in the fluffy white cushion. That’s not the only odd thing about Ouma's behavior either...

"Ugh! I’m bored now! This is the bajillionth time we tied!"

Shuichi had rolled his eyes at the time. It was his fourth attempt at hanging out with the leader, one-on-one in a futile effort to get to know him. And although he’d always left their meetings feeling like he’d learned nothing substantial (or, barely anything at all for that matter), the detective firmly believed that he was at least beginning to get a better grip on the trickster's speaking mannerisms.

Key word being believed .

"Oh yeah, by the way..." Kokichi began, suddenly dropping his weight from his tiptoes to his heels. In a cat-like manner, he stretched his arms behind his back, and leaned forward, grinning up cheekily at the bewildered detective with obvious amusement sparkling in his eyes. As he rocked gently back and forth on his heels, a pinkish tint dotted his cheeks, and Shuichi soon found himself utterly transfixed by the small boy.

Kokichi had discarded his usual theatrics, and yet, still managed to capture his attention like it was nothing with just one look. It was... impressive, Shuichi had to admit.

From there, the leader never took his eyes off of the detective. He stared at the taller boy's long lashes, making sure they were focused on him and only him.

Once satisfied, he tilted his head innocently and beamed, his smile loosening into something a little more natural than his usual mischievous grin. Shuichi's eyes were positively glued to him, curious, and searching for something he didn’t know was still far beyond his reach.

Quietly, Kokichi whispered, "Did you know there’s a way to throw the same thing on purpose in rock-paper-scissors?"

It was something so trivial, so seemingly small in the grand scheme of things, but it still managed to gnaw at the edges of Shuichi's mind. Why had Ouma forced a tie? And why had he pretended, up until the last second, that all their previous matches were a result of pure luck?

"It doesn’t make sense." Shuichi whispered to himself, bringing a hand to his chin. "Everything he says and everything he does is contradictory."

"'Cause I’m a liar."

He recalled Ouma explaining. As early as their first encounter.

A liar....Hmm...

Shuichi closed his eyes, pensive. What expression was he making as he said that?

The detective couldn’t quite recall, but...perhaps that was a good place to start if he ever hoped to understand the enigma that was Kokichi Ouma. Releasing the squished pillow from his clutches, Shuichi got up and grabbed a pen and a notebook, turning on his desk lamp and pulling up a seat at the navy bureau.

If he couldn’t sleep, might as well do something productive, right?

Opening to a fresh page, he wrote the liar's name in bold and began jotting down what he knew.

• He’s the Ultimate Supreme Leader. (Claims to be "Evil" but it’s not explicitly written in the monopad's Student Profiles tab)
• Despite his small stature, he’s got a big personality.
• He loves teasing people, especially Yumeno and Keebo.
• He’s, quite frankly, not very well liked. Particularly by Maki and Kaito.

Kaito. Shuichi paused, stealing a glance towards his bedroom door.

A fter his encounter with Kokichi, he'd almost forgotten about their fight, about the morbid thoughts he'd been preoccupied with just minutes earlier. 

I really hope he's okay for now...

The detective sighed, dropping his pen and propping up his elbows on the table. Burying his face between them, he took a moment to just stop and breathe. "What a mess..."

Between the trial, Kaito, and Kokichi, tensions were higher than ever in the group. And although Shuichi was normally pretty good at playing it cool, pretty good at maintaining his composure and being the voice of reason in such situations, under such stress, even he'd managed to snap.

"You’re alone Kokichi. And you always will be."

It was cold and harsh, but it was the damn truth.

Not many people were fond of the leader to begin with, and he’d just gone and discarded the last of his remaining allies with this trial. Laughing heartily at their deaths, claiming they were less than meaningless.

Shuichi hadn’t even gotten to know Miu or Gonta all that well before they died, but even he recognized that their lives had intrinsic value. And it angered him, really angered him that Kokichi couldn’t see that, couldn’t see value in anything or anyone beyond himself and his malicious schemes. And then he had the gall to–

–No, I shouldn’t go down that path. Shuichi shook his head, thinking better on it. Because even that... may just be another lie.

Staring down at the page again, the detective retrieved his pen and began writing with renewed vigor, underlining the key points and drawing connections between his scattered thoughts.

He claims this is all a game. Shuichi noted. But yet, seems unwilling to take action as a participant. Sure, he orchestrated Iruma's death, but that was only after she’d stuck her own target to his back.

But why involve Gonta ? It’s not like he knew about his avatar's settings in the Virtual World until the moment of truth. –Was it for protection? But everyone was at the same strength...so...backup?

To be fair, if he had told anyone else of the situation, I doubt they would’ve cooperated. I don’t know what was in that flashback light either, but I still doubt that there'd be enough incentive for anyone else to commit a murder.

"The truth of the outside world..." Shuichi hummed thoughtfully, "inspired Gonta to commit a mercy kill."

Mercy kill –that’s the key. Gonta was a gentle soul, so he’d have NEVER killed someone with malicious intent. If he thought, after seeing that memory, that killing everyone left in the game was merciful, then...

"Maybe... there’s no outside world to call home anymore."

Shuichi was on to something, he could tell. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he turned the page and continued.

That would explain Alter Ego Gonta's secrecy on the matter. Kokichi's as well. If they had dropped a bombshell like that on us mid-trial then maybe...maybe it really all would’ve been in vain after all. Maybe it was.

If there’s truly nothing waiting for us once we get out of here then...

What the hell are we even doing?

The world was deadly silent in that instant. Deafeningly so .

All Shuichi could do was stare at what he’d written, repeating the words over and over like a mantra to his numbing mind.

"That...can’t be right..." He frowned behind his hand, tilting his head to view the phrase from a different angle. Deep in his chest, he could hear his heart screaming out in distress at the possibility, and subconsciously moved his pen above the phrase. The longer he stared at it, the more ready he was to simply scratch it out until the paper tore, and curse his paranoid mind for always thinking of the worst-case-scenario.

…But he couldn’t. He couldn’t cross off that possibility just yet, no matter how much he wanted to.

"...Is this how they both felt?" The detective wondered, setting down his pen and half-consciously running his index finger along the bumps in the paper. No wonder he...

Shuichi flipped the page back to his original list and circled a passage he’d written in the margin beside his second point.

Coping mechanism?

Maybe his lies are to him like Atua was to Angie. A way of feeling grounded, and in control of the situation. Kokichi's small, and I doubt he could take many people in fight (something we unfortunately both have in common) so perhaps his obnoxious personality is a way to make himself seem bigger and less vulnerable.

"And it’s been effective to a degree, I suppose." The detective considered, leaning back in the chair and tapping the back of the pen to his lower lip. "People certainly are scared  of him, especially after tonight."

He did orchestrate  a murder, after all.

"But more than that," Shuichi hummed, recalling Maki's pointed glare as the leader left the room. Caught up in his own frustration, he didn’t think much of it at the time, but that look...that raw, concentrated hatred that colored her ruby eyes...it was dangerous. "I think...he’s just painted a bigger target on his back."

Doodling a target next to those words, Shuichi imagined the two running around the dining hall. Maki, with a freshly sharpened kitchen knife in her hand and Kokichi with a pocket full of all kinds of surprise traps. Were the situation not so plausible, it’d almost be comedic, Shuichi mused.

For the third time, he set his pen down, picking up the notebook to admire his handiwork. The pages were an utter mess, but it was progress.

–Assuming anything I’m thinking is right, anyway.

Shuichi was still only an apprentice detective, after all. Not quite at the point where he could believe he’d struck gold with every assumption just yet.

But still, if any of this turns out to be even *remotely* true then...

"Then the way I’ve been thinking about Kokichi this whole time...it's been all wrong."

Chapter Text

Kokichi had never meant to fall asleep on the floor.

He’d never meant to dream about Iruma or Gokuhara either. 

…Well, calling it a dream would be putting it nicely.

"Where...am I?" The leader asked, slowly beginning to process his surroundings.

White walls...

White ceilings... 

White floors...

Hell, even his breath was currently evaporating into long, swirly white wisps, tickling his nose in the frigid air. 

A sneeze soon erupted from his tiny frame, and along with it, came a violent shiver. It shot up his hunched spine, involuntarily straightening it for a half-second, before, once again, allowing his shoulders to relax. What resulted from this was something of a shuddered whimper from the leader's frostbitten lips, accompanied by a wave of self-pity when he quickly realized there wasn't a jacket or even a measly thin blanket to embrace him in sight. 

Sighing, he simply hugged his arms tighter to his chest, and groaned. 

Dammit, it’s cold.

Kokichi cursed the way his entire body shook with every stiff step forward. And were his mind capable of processing any other thoughts at the moment, he’d have surely realized this wasn't normal.

Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold.

Frost had wrapped itself around the ends of his violet locks, darkening them a few shades until they appeared as black as the checkered squares on his favorite scarf. As dark as Miu's favorite pair of black boots.

What is this place? 

The questioned floated and lingered in Kokichi's mind as he breathed in the vastness of the empty building -an abandoned sanatorium by the looks of it. At least, that's what was carved into the eroded cream-colored stone near the entrance. (Or was that the exit?) Either way, it did nothing to assuage the immediate eeriness he'd felt upon entry. 

Stopping in his tracks, the leader puffed out a cloud of white that blended in perfectly with the walls. 

I don’t remember there being a place like this anywhere in the school.

The contrast between this frozen hell and the lush green one he pattered around for the past two weeks was like night and day. And although both of them seemed to be draining more and more of his life force with every second he spent idle, at least this place had the decency not to lie to him with a pretty exterior. Instead, it presented itself for what it really was: a broken facility once meant to serve broken minds and bodies, long weathered until all that was left was shattered pillars to hold it up and cracks in the walls where pictures and paintings and signs of life used to hang. 

Life. 

There wasn't much of that left at the Ultimate Academy now, was there? 

And part of that was his fault.

Looking around, Kokichi spotted two half-broken doors revealing seemingly endless black hallways both to his left and to his right. But what was particularly intriguing was the descending staircase at the back.

It was a peculiar existence -not so long that he couldn't see the bottom, yet steep enough that one wrong step would easily result in dire, perhaps even fatal, consequences. In addition to the strange optical illusion it presented, it also seemed to be the only thing unworn by the hands of time, appearing as fresh and sturdy as the day it was first built.

Kokichi inhaled a shuddered breath. Here goes nothing, I suppose.  

A feeling he couldn't quite explain had, not long since his discovery, swelled in his chest and urged him to press forward. 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

But upon taking that first step, there was a sudden shift in scenery, as the white ceramic beneath his feet morphed into something much more appropriate and in-line with the general state of the building. 

What's going on here?

The overwhelming cold was surely messing with his mind.

This, however, didn't change his initial feeling; he needed to move forward. Needed to know what was down there, lurking...waiting...

Drawing him to a place that only screamed danger. 

So, he took another step.

And another.

And a few more, until he finally found a comfortable rhythm. 

And, as he dragged his numbingly cold limbs down the stairs, Kokichi learned to hate the sound of his own footsteps.

Every creak of the rotting wooden floorboards reminded him of the god-awful third trial, and of the mild injury he’d sustained during its investigation. Even now, he could still feel it's lingering after-effects, pulsing absolutely charmingly at the forefront of his skull.

It hurts. But it didn't really bother him.

Finally, he reached the bottom of the steps, or rather, the foot of his last obstacle: a lone, tall white door that stood out like a beacon of light in the surrounding darkness. That nagging feeling that had urged him forward was now stronger than ever, and yet, Kokichi couldn't help but hesitate.

He noticed that unlike the two doors on the first floor, this one was oddly still intact. And also, that unlike the two doors on the first floor...this one sported numerous scratch marks and ominous blood stains. 

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

It didn't take a genius to understand the many warning signs the place had so generously laid out for him.

Cold.

Quiet.

Broken.

Blood.

There could only be one thing waiting on the other side of that door for him...

Still, it wasn’t like there was anywhere left to go, or anything else to see in the confines of these narrowing white walls. At any rate, he was too tired and cold to go back and check anyway.

The only way to go...was forward.

So he placed a shaky hand on the doorknob, and pressed on.

The door creaked open, its immediate squeaking telling of its years of its disuse. Loud and grating, the noise it made resounded in stark contrast to the dead silence that oppressed the rest of the building.

A cold gust suddenly blew past, making every last one of Kokichi's hairs stand on end, begging for warmth, as yet another violent shiver wracked his body. He sneezed, once again, unable to resist the touch of dust that puffed with the abrupt movement, and gave the door its final push, revealing a square room surrounded by.... freezers?

What the– 

For a brief moment, Kokichi stood there confused. Why freez– 

And then, it hit him.

An overwhelmingly powerful stench, leaking from the largest freezer at the back. He’d noticed, unlike the others, that it’s little blue light had burnt out and, based on the smell, could only guess at what was slowly rotting away in there.

…  

Pulling his scarf above his nose, Kokichi began to approach it with caution. 

One step...two steps...

And truth be told, he knew exactly what this place was –he’d known since before he’d even opened the door.

Three steps...four...

And as that putrid smell grew stronger with each foot forward, the wall of denial that had been fortified in his mind began to crumble.

Five steps...six...

It wasn't much farther now. Maybe a step, or two, at most.

Shit.

The leader coughed into his scarf, choking back a gag as the overwhelming stench dulled all of his other senses. Dizzily, he placed a hand on the lukewarm door and breathed slow. 

How had he done it in the past? How was it that he ever managed to ignore this familiar scent of sluggish decay?

…How did the rest of them do it?

Feeling an intense a wave of nausea wash over him, Kokichi swallowed hard.

Had it always been so difficult to hold his dinner?

The freezer didn't answer. 

It wasn't long after when Kokichi regained his composure, squeezing one hand tighter than ever around his mouth and nose while the other wrapped loosely around the freezer's handle.

Closing his eyes, he imagined a pile of rotting steaks on the other side and not...never mind. 

He held his breath.

Here goes.

And pulled the handle. 

For a brief second -an eternal, deluded second, he believed it to be true. That the sanatorium's massive fridge was, in fact, just a storeroom connected to the kitchen. Or, even better yet, to the back of a secret ice cream parlor, where buckets upon buckets of that fresh frozen goodness was stored, just waiting to be opened and devoured.

But alas, that eternal second only really lasted about that long –a second, and when Kokichi opened his eyes once more, reality, as harsh and cruel as ever, was there to eagerly welcome him back.

It bore its fangs in the form of two familiar corpses rotting side by side, propped up against one another back-to-back. To the left was the girl, face twisted in raw agony that betrayed her natural true beauty. And to the right slumped the boy, face swollen beyond recognition as he exhibited the fatal gaping hole passing through his stomach.

The leader jumped instinctively and stepped back a few paces, quickly raising both hands to cover his nose and mouth. If he thought the smell was bad before, it was at least ten times worse now, with the bodies out in the open.

Taking in a shallow breath, Ouma blinked back the unwanted tears that stung his eyes -an unfortunate result of the toxic gas that was beginning to permeate his skin and crawl the length of his slender form.

"Y-Yup," he muttered to himself aloud, teeth still chattering away with the dreadful cold, "d-definitely a m-morgue."

Thump.

He flinched at the surprising volume of the sound.

And when Kokichi looked back at the two lifeless bodies, he remarked that one was suddenly missing its head.

"Kokichi. "

"!"

Like a clap of thunder on a stormy night, her voice shook him.

It drowned out all of the useless ambient noise, including that which cluttered his mind, and for a moment, just simply...existed. 

…  

A gentle pressure then began to gradually sink into his feet.

…Huh?

Without thinking, Kokichi looked down.

Oh.

That’s why the voice had sounded so close.

"Why did you kill me, Kokichi?"  Iruma's severed head spoke, its voice strained as though it were still in the process of being strangled out of her. "Fucking why?"

It took him a second to process, locked onto her bulging baby blue eyes. And, if Saihara hadn't already taught him the true meaning of the word earlier, he'd have certainly named that emotion hatred.  

Sigh.

This *really* was inevitable, huh?

Of course it wasn’t. This is your fault.

Shut up.

He silenced his inner debate.

"Y-You tried to kill me f-first!" 

No, it wasn't him who was the one to blame. It was her who had started this, re-programming his avatar and inviting him up to that roof. It was she who had decided to throw her dart at his portrait, or rather, her hammer.

It wasn't his fault that she'd chosen the wrong target, and was unable to follow through.

It wasn't his fault, either, that he had.

Then who's fault was it, now?

"I had no choice! " The head screeched, frustrated tears turning to ice slides along her pale cheeks as it gasped desperately for air." The outside world needed me. You fuckin' saw it!"

Kokichi tensed. The outside world...yes, indeed, he had seen it -a world absolutely ravaged by devastation, vividly painted in orange, yellow and red hues. A world that was desperately in need of someone like her, who had the potential to start again, and re-build it from scratch...

"But the o-outside w-world needs m-more than just an ugly sow." 

He recalled a time when mom Kirumi had used the same argument. How she needed to get out to save her country, how twelve measly little lives were nothing in comparison to the millions she'd be saving. The millions she supposedly had no idea yet, were already dead.

…What bullshit.

And yet, they called him the master manipulator of the group.

"Then why did you come to the roof?" 

Ah, he'd been waiting on that one.

Why go up to the roof?

Why bother doing anything at all?

The truth was...Kokichi didn't know.

You were scared.

All he knew was that she was threatening the group's peace.

You were paranoid that she'd try again and succeed.

And he couldn't allow that.

"Why, Kokichi?!" A firm hand gripped his shoulder from behind, startling him anew.

In a swift motion, it spun him around to face the man who’d been his last ally. His only real friend in this place, ugly-crying despite his (now) severely swollen face. "Why Kokichi betray Gonta?" 

"..."

Any words Kokichi could think to reply quickly died in throat. 

And as the larger teen's hand squeezed his shoulder tighter, re-molding the muscle and shattering the bone, he found himself unable to do a thing. 

"Please answer Gonta."

The gentle giant pleaded through sobs, shaking like a scolded child. 

"Please, Kokichi."

"I... I d-didn’t betray you G-Gonta! I–" The boy began, accidentally biting his tongue mid-sentence.

Yes, you did.

Shut up.

"It... It’s not m-my fault that the p-plan failed!"

Ahahahaha.

Shut up!

It wasn't like he wanted Gonta dead! It was...it was Miu's fault! She was the one who'd changed his avatar's setting so that he couldn't kill her himself. It was her fault that he had to ask for help, had to involve someone who was, who had become important to him. Because of that worthless, idiotic bitchlet, he-

"Gonta not stupid, Kokichi!" Gokuhara suddenly yelled, silencing his useless drivel. The entomologist then proceeded to step back, retracting his once firm and comforting hand to wipe away tears.

"G-Gon-"

 "Kokichi's plan succeed."  He said with miserable finality, voice barely above a whisper. " Kokichi planned to betray Gonta from start." 

…

Like bitter medicine, Kokichi swallowed those words.

"Th...That’s not–"

"Kokichi a bad person." 

The leader blinked, staring blankly at the devastated expression being directed back at him.

Stop. Don't look at me like that. I'm-

"N-no, I’m just trying to –"

"What? End this fucking killing game?" Iruma's strained voice scoffed. "We've heard *that* one before. It doesn’t change the fact that you still killed us." The Ultimate Inventor huffed, then sucked in a shallow breath. "You're a shitty person, Kokichi."

"..."

Despite the wicked cold, the shorter boy abruptly stopped trembling.

Removing his hands from his mouth, he allowed them to fall limply to his sides and crash loosely against his sturdy waist.

What is this...? 

He stared at the duo, one burning with acrimony, the other with anguish. 

Why...do they keep looking at me like that?

Disgusting. Vile. Depraved. Scum of the earth.

Evil.

Wait...is that what they were expecting? 

…

"Haha.." The leader giggled to himself, feeling the intense stares of his victims cut through his frozen body like butter. "Hahaha...."

Of course.  

Closing his eyes, he craned his neck back and allowed his shoulders to bounce higher and higher with every laugh. Higher, with every chuckle, every breath —every ugly, raw emotion he’d buried deep within. "AH-HAHAHAHA! Man, you guys are hilarious!"

This... This was just another joke, right...?

Clutching his stomach, Kokichi doubled over with laughter, letting himself get utterly consumed by the absurdity of it all. "But. But this is too much!" He wheezed, forgetting to breathe. "I –I’m gonna puke!"

That's when he realized –the sensation that was coursing through his veins wasn’t, in fact, numbness...

It was  the cold embrace of death itself.

"..."

All at once, Kokichi stopped laughing.

In spite of all the lies he’d been spewing with each breath, he really *did* feel sick to his stomach. The smell of Iruma and Gokuhara's rotting flesh was really starting to get to him and–

Kokichi's eyes shot open. 

Covering his mouth, he scrambled to his feet and burst through the bathroom door to cough up the last of his nerves.

Shit- 

And as he did, while gripping at the pristine porcelain bowl with all his might, memories of that afternoon raced dizzily throughout his mind. They bounced from hemisphere to hemisphere, aggravating his old injury and inciting his heart to join his stomach in the flip routine it had going on.

…

Meanwhile, in contrast to the excruciating cold he'd felt from within his dream, his skin now flared with an intense, scorching heat.

…

Droplets of sweat rolled down the leader's forehead to his cheeks, catching on strands of hair and wetting them along with his lashes.

He blinked them back, still barely capable of finding his breath.

…

Inhaling sharply, he slowly found reality again.

Hazy shapes became solid objects.

Tilted ceilings straightened up. 

The walls stopped contracting, and finally, finally, so did Kokichi's chest.

"Whew."

The leader breathed, easing up his death grip and wiping away the sweat from his brow. In a sluggish movement, he slid cautiously back and settled semi-calmly on the backs of his heels.

Just a nightmare.

Closing his eyes, Kokichi grounded himself in place, loosely clenching and unclenching his fists.

You're in your room. It's okay.

And slowly but surely, his heart began to settle. 

You’re okay.

But in spite of his best attempts, there was still someone he had yet to convince.

"… Okay ? Woooow."

His worst enemy drawled, rolling his eyes as he kicked his legs and inspected his perfectly polished nails with the utmost boredom. He never did look down from his place on the counter, nor even pause for a second, as he voiced his disappointment.

"What a pathetic lie."

Curling his fingers, Kokichi dug his nails into his upper thighs. 

I'm okay.

Blood, death, nightmares...it was all just part of the game, right?

All just part of the fun...

"..."

"I want you students with your Ultimate–level talents to participate in a killing game."

All just part of one big, sick joke.

…

Sighing, the leader raised a hand to the counter and staggered to his feet.

"Thrills, chills, kills!"

That's all this was. Nothing more, and nothing less than a competition. 

One that he'd already decided he'd win.

Knees still a little wobbly, he supported his weight on the counter and positioned himself in front of the sink.

"Is winning really worth that much?"

Opening the tap, he watched as fresh, cool water rushed and crashed against the porcelain, already soothing his warm skin before even getting the chance to touch it.

"Is it really worth abandoning your morals, abandoning your life?"

Splashing his face, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Y'know, you can't ignore the truth forever." His reflection stared, watching his makeup dissolve into nothing, down the abyss of the drain. "You say all these grandiose things about usurping the mastermind and saving them all. Making plans to kill yourself behind their backs while letting them believe you're as carefree as ever." 

Careening his head to the left, he noticed the bruise blooming in all of its glory on his right cheek. Touching it gingerly, he couldn't help but clench his teeth, and exhale steadily. Fucking Momota.

"They won't care when you die, you know." 

Kokichi paused, letting any remaining water he'd scooped up slip through his fingers. He stared back at his reflection, neutral.

That's *not* why I'm doing this.

"That's a lie."  It challenged. "You're a performer at heart, Kokichi. Everyone knows you live for the attention. Even your precious detective."

Don't bring Shuichi into this.

"Maybe before tonight, it would've still been possible." It hummed, tilting its head playfully. "He really *did* seem to be warming up to you towards the end..."

Stop it.

"But you've got blood on your hands now." 

Placing an icy hand on his shoulder, it pouted mockingly. 

"What a shame."

Squeezing his eyes shut, the leader shook his head. He was done listening to this garbage.

"Actually, speaking of shame, I wonder what DICE would think of your latest little scheme?"

Closing the tap, he kept his gaze down and grabbed at the little towel hanging off to the side. 

"I bet they'd be really disappointed to see just how far their dear 'leader' has fallen." 

At this, Kokichi rolled his eyes.

Despite that stupid video he’d been given, he knew DICE would be just fine. They were smart, and driven and so unbelievably capable.

In truth, he knew they’d never really needed a leader. Especially not one who violated his own goddamn golden rule.

Maybe... maybe they would even be better off without him.

"I'm sure that Hearts would weep. Poor girl's always been the sentimental type."

Setting the towel down, he reached back and untied his scarf, revealing two additional bruises in the shape of Harukawa's hands circling around his neck.

"Hey! Who do you think they'll replace you with?  If they haven't already, that is."

Poking at them, Kokichi practiced his smile.

It doesn’t hurt.

At least, that's what he told himself as he glued any and all cracks in his mask back together.

"Geez, would you give that a rest already? I'm only kidding around!" 

But the soon-to be-ex-leader of DICE only pressed down harder, and grinned.

"Hey..." 

What? Can't you see that I'm busy?

The reflection opened it's mouth to say something, but stopped. 

Kokichi watched as its face changed several times over the course of a few seconds, as though pensive, searching for something just beyond its grasp. 

Finally, with drooping shoulders, it sighed, and suddenly, looked a lot more like him then ever before. 

"Aren't you tired?"

The boy grimaced.

Of course I am. 

"Then stop this."

…

I can't.

He'd come too far to just throw it all away.

Revealing his hand now would just be stupid.

"Even after all these years...you're still a liar down to your core, huh?"

Kokichi didn't respond.

"Or rather, you've been spinning lies for so long that you've forgotten what it means to tell the truth."

…

"It's funny really. Didn't you start all of this because you were scared of being pushed aside and eventually, forgotten?"

…

"Scared of dying without ever getting the chance to leave your mark on the world? Isn't that why you first took the stage?"

I don't remember.

"Of course you don't."  The reflection shrugged. "It's been so long since the lines between fiction and truth blurred; I'm not surprised."

Right. It hadn't always been like this...

…But at what point had those lines blurred?

"Oh singer X?" He’d chirped that time, when Ace had accidentally ripped their earbuds out while walking by. "I just looove their new song!"

Ace had blushed and nodded faintly at that, ever the shy one of the group. Meanwhile, Kokichi had simply grinned. But inside, the leader couldn’t help but wonder...

Did he really like that song? Or did he just think he did?

"Ugh, gross!! I hate horrific stuff like that, Spades!"

On another occasion, he banged softly at his subordinate's chest, sticking his tongue out in mock-disgust as the man continued telling him of the horrific injuries he’d treated in his day job as an ER nurse. "...But that’s a lie."

The leader grinned a beat later, earning an eye roll and fond chuckle from the blond. All the while his heart raced, questioning if that was really the truth.

And the fact was that Kokichi could no longer tell.

It had been so long since he was honest with himself, let alone anybody else.

"That's why you like him, right?"

…

"Kind... Gentle... Honest. He's everything you'll never be." 

Dropping any last traces of a smile, he shifted uncomfortably in place. And?

"It really is a shame." The reflection lamented. "You'll die and he won’t ever know about any of this. As quickly as he knew you, he'll come to forget you. Well, so long as nobody kills him first."

Stop.

"He'll get out of here and eventually begin fresh somewhere. Grow up and meet someone, start a family. And you'll be long gone from his mind."

Shut up. 

"And the few times he *does* accidentally manage to think about you, *this* is what he'll remember."

SH-

"He won’t remember you as Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader; the boy who tried his best to end this godforsaken game. No, surely he'll remember you as–" 

"Shut the fuck up."

"–Kokichi Ouma, the filthy fucking liar."

What happened next became a gap in Kokichi's memory.

When he finally came to, the mirror in front of him was shattered, and his left fist was bleeding something fierce. But the room was quiet, unbelievably, beautifully quiet (at least, except for the dripping faucet and the low buzzing in his ears).

Wait...buzzing?

It was barely audible, but if the leader strained juuust hard enough, he could hear the faint buzzing of something in either ear.

Right. He remembered (how could he forget?), and quickly dug out the small pink object he’d earlier pocketed from Iruma's lab.

Feigning disinterest, he spun it around in his right hand, processing all of its subtle bumps and curves for a few rounds. 

Ah. 

-Until he found just what he was looking for.

 Kokichi smirked.

"It seems I’ve given you all quite the show tonight, haven’t I?" The liar spoke aloud to no one in particular. He leaned back on the bathroom counter, propping himself up by his elbows, and stared directly into the painted eyes of the bomb's mascot. "I do sincerely hope you enjoyed!"

As one final display, he tossed the bomb up and caught it between three fingers. "But unfortunately for you, the show's over now."

Standing up straight, he plucked out the safety pin with his index finger. And, after generously providing his audience with one last shit-eating grin, curled two fingers around the detonation lever. Finally, spitting all the venom he could muster, he made sure to clearly articulate his closing words: "So get lost, you sick shits!"

Dropping the bomb, he felt his knees buckle beneath him, finally giving way to all the stress of the night.

But to his delight, the buzzing ceased, leaving only the comforting silence to surround him. 

Heaving a much-needed sigh of relief, the leader allowed himself to cast a glance down at his bloody hand. "Now that that’s taken care of..."

Kokichi moved to collect the first-aid kit from the wall and began plucking out shards of broken glass from between his knuckles. With nobody watching him anymore, he no longer felt the need to stifle his yelps, and wound up crying a whole string of colorful words at the end of the ten minutes it had taken him.

"Argh!!" The leader yowled, tears springing to his eyes as he doused the hand in rubbing alcohol, using an absolutely stupid amount of cotton pads to absorb the blood. Then, ripping a piece of gauze with his teeth, Kokichi clumsily wrapped up his hand. It was a shoddy job at best, but good enough for the time being, he deemed. All he needed was something to tape down the ends with .

Reaching into the kit, he grabbed a pair of adhesive bandages. 

"..." 

"Okay, I think that’s good. What do you think?"

A pair of beautiful golden-gray eyes looked up to meet his violet ones.

"Yeah." Kokichi had replied a little breathlessly, cursing at the heat he could already feel rising in his cheeks. Shuichi still had yet to let go of his hand. "It wasn’t a deep cut, so that'll do." He quickly followed up. "Thanks for treating my injury, Shuichi."

Why did he care so much?

It was just a cut.

Just a small, stupid nick he’d made on his left ring finger whilst getting distracted by the detective's scent.

So why...why was he so concerned?

As soon as he’d suggested they play the knife game, the leader watched and counted the worry lines that surfaced on his favorite's face, ingraining them thoroughly into his memory. What he hadn’t expected was for Shuichi to get so close to him as he brandished the knife, trying his best to show off. Still, he continued chopping with fluidity and ease, smiling nonchalantly at his beloved's stressed remarks until–

"Ouch!"

–he’d accidentally cut his left ring finger.

And Shuichi, having already worked himself into quite a tizzy, immediately rushed for the first-aid kit and soon after, began patching him up.

It was in that moment, Kokichi thought to himself, that he’d realized just how badly he’d fallen for the detective.

As Shuichi gently grabbed his wrist, the small leader felt the tips of his ears heat up and began to laugh. "Nee-heehee...haha!"

It had been ages since he’d last laughed with all his heart like that, simply elated to be alive.

Simply happy to be in the moment.

His serious face is so cute. He remembered thinking, as Shuichi concentrated on disinfecting his cut. The detective's long lashes were indeed much prettier up close.

"What do you think?"

Kokichi blinked, finding a shy grin pulling at the detective's lips.

Inspecting his beloved's handiwork, he couldn’t help but imagine a golden band around his finger in place of the bandage. But not that classical gold color, no –it’d be something more subdued, like the color of the detective's eyes. That way, every time he’d look at it, he’d be reminded that they're owner really belonged to him.

"Aw maaaan, I lost!" The smaller male pouted childishly, then, not a second, later broke out into a big smile. "Congrats, Shuichi! You win!"

"But I didn’t do it yet..." The detective stared at him, the naïve disbelief apparent on his perfect features. "I’m still the winner?"

Of course you are, stupidhead! Kokichi thought, hoping that Shuichi wasn’t really paying any mind to his progressively flushing cheeks. You already won a long time ago.

"Now, you’ll never *ever* forget me for the rest of your life." He beamed, lightly running his fingers along the bandaged cut. "I stole your heart, so now I’m satisfied!"

…

That was only three days ago, but it already felt like an eternity had passed.

You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

…

Looking at his freshly-bandaged hand illuminated by the crappy bathroom light, the leader sighed.

I wish I’d never gotten to know him.

Kokichi remained like that for a little while, resting peacefully on the cool bathroom tile flooring. And in that time he spent regaining his energy, he kept his mind busy by focusing on the killing game and what to do next.

I still need to finish that script. He thought of the red notebook waiting for him, buried under a hoard of drawings and other blueprints. The next plan was already close to completion, especially now that he’d gotten his hands on Iruma's inventions, but there were still a few more variables he needed to account for. Namely, the location of the next murder –the last murder. He hoped. …I should wait until the band of idiots unlocks the new area tomorrow. But for now, at least, I should update the whiteboard.

Getting back on a pair of slightly more stable feet, Kokichi closed the bathroom light and dragged himself over the board of suspects, feeling oddly calm and focused. He moved Iruma and Gokuhara's pictures first, drawing a neat little arrow between them like he’d done with all the other prior cases. And just underneath it, he drew a small roll of toilet paper representing the cause of death.

"..." The nightmare from earlier flashed through his head.

"Kokichi a bad person." 

"You're a shitty person, Kokichi."

I know. The leader closed his eyes and quietly accepted it. And I’m sorry, Gonta, for betraying you like that. You too, Miu. Even though your dumb whore pig ass tried to kill me first.

In the dead silence, he let out a small chuckle. 

-That chuckle, however, was just as quickly smothered by the sound of loud banging on the leader’s door.

What the fuck?

Kokichi froze. He hadn’t anticipated this.

It was the night after a trial for fuck's sake, wasn’t everyone tired??

Well, maybe there was one person who wasn’t, but he thought that surely, she’d be occupied taking care of her sick little astroboyfriend for the time being.

Is she *really* here to kill me?

His heart was racing, but his feet remained rooted in place. Kokichi hadn’t prepared to die tonight. Sometime in the near future, yes, but not tonight.

And yet, here was Miss Assassin trying to break down his door in the middle of night and destroy everything.

Dammit, I think I went a little too far back there, by the looks of it!

Kokichi had braced himself for the imminent destruction of the only barrier standing between himself and certain death when–

"U-Um...Ouma? Can we talk?"

–he heard his voice behind the door.

"Sai...hara?"

Chapter Text

"My way of thinking about Kokichi up until now..." Shuichi pondered while washing his hands in the bathroom sink, "...let’s assume it was completely wrong."

Turning off the tap, he felt a rare wave of confidence surge through his body, and caught a glimpse of a different person staring back at him in the mirror. A person with the conviction and the resolve to solve a mystery that dared to challenge his narrow way of thinking.

Drying his hands on the little navy blue towel, Shuichi gave him a small, satisfied grin, then quickly returned to his seat and opened his notebook to a fresh page. 

(Potentially) FALSE ASSUMPTIONS 

He wrote at the top in bold, and underlined three times just for good measure. Out of everything he’d written so far, this section was likely to become the most important. 

• Kokichi is evil. 
• He’s working against us.
• He believes that this killing game is fun.
• He desires to watch us suffer.

"Let’s start with those for now." Shuichi nodded affirmatively and began to get to work.

Putting his pen to paper, the detective very quickly realized a commonality between every assumption.

Now that I think about it...

Something he hadn't exactly realized, up until he'd given it a smidge of thought.

 …Wasn't *he* the one who claimed all these things?

Thinking back to their first meeting in the classroom, Shuichi was sure the liar had mentioned not just his supreme leader title, but his "evil" secret organization as well. A nameless, faceless group that supposedly contained over ten thousand members and wreaked havoc all over the world (or at least, all over Japan).

The same group, Kokichi would later claim, that was required to take snack breaks every afternoon.

-The same group that settled every fight with a game.

"Yup. The supreme leader, *ahem* me, is a pacifist."

"A pacifist, hm?" Shuichi articulated, tapping the pen rhythmically against the bureau. 

Ah...Kokichi *had* said that too, hadn't he?

It was during their third solo meeting; their tea party in the dining hall. That day, Kokichi had tried to coax him into joining his nefarious organization with promises of fun and constant entertainment. He, of course, had politely declined, much to the leader's disappointment, but the wasn't the last time Shuichi would ever hear that question. 

That event was, however, the only time he'd ever hear Kokichi define himself as a peaceful and non-violent individual.

"He's only ever said that to me." The detective recalled, filtering through his recent memories. "...Only once."

…

He knew there was something off about that conversation that day, but only now did he understand what it was. 

Jotting down a few notes, Shuichi once again, traced back his memories of the past two weeks to the very beginning. 

"How did we all first describe him when we met?" 

Suspicious. Mischievous. Childish. 

But not evil.

"That's right."

Nobody had initially thought that Kokichi was evil. A pest, yes, and definitely a little mean at times.

But not evil.

At least, not until he'd asserted it himself, time and time again.

…

Why...was that, exactly?

Why did he repeat it so often, until it was etched into each and every one of their brains?

What purpose was there in antagonizing himself like that?

…Although, maybe a better question would be: Why did they all inevitably believe him?

Kokichi was a liar. 

He'd said so as early as their first introduction.

So then, why?

Why had they let themselves be convinced?

"A lie is still a lie, no matter how many times you repeat it." Shuichi hummed, solidifying the words on paper. "No matter how you change the wording, or the delivery, it still amounts to false information."

Everyone thought that the whole "evil" organization thing was a lie back when they first heard it, so what’s changed since then?

What's made that claim more believable?

There was no evidence to support it.

No crazy tales of malevolent escapades.

No direct action taken either.

In fact, when he really thought about it, today was the first time they'd ever seen Kokichi do something undeniably awful and unforgivable. 

So then why...why was this villain persona already solidified in their minds? 

…

…

…

For a long time, the detective stared at the page without an answer.

Every explanation his brain had come up with only felt like a pathetic excuse. A result skewed spectacularly by his own biases, that wasn’t at all representative of the objective truth he sought. 

"Maybe...I shouldn’t consider this from the group's perspective." Shuichi eventually sighed, closing his eyes and combing a hand through his restless bangs. "Maybe I should consider it from his." 

Sitting up straight, he took a deep breath and focused. 

As seemingly nonsensical as they are, Kokichi's lies can be divided up into two categories:

Harmless and Harmful.

The former consists of statements that are more...inconsequential. Like the whole "stealing my heart" thing.

Meanwhile, the latter is much more malicious, and damaging. The prime example being what happened in the last trial. 

If I had to say which of the two were more believable, I'd say the latter. They usually involved the others somehow, either by attacking their characters or their beliefs, and always managed to make people upset. 

Actually, in the last trial, I noticed that Kokichi was particularly cruel towards Kaito. He seemed to be purposely riling him up, though, given their rocky history, that may have just been for his own amusement. 

… But what if it wasn't?

"Despite being a detective, I always feel like I'm one step behind him during the trials." Shuichi confessed aloud. "And when I think back to what happened during Kirumi's case and what followed afterwards with Maki, I can't help but think he's extremely calculating. If all he wanted to do was piss off Kaito for a few minutes, he should've known that he didn't have to take things that far." 

…Unless that was his goal right from the start. 

But if that's the case, then-

"The reason we all grew attached to the idea of him being a villain..." Shuichi realized, "is because that's how he wanted us to think of him."

Without any of them noticing, Kokichi had slowly molded their perception of him.

He'd stained his own reputation to attract their hate-filled glares and seething contempt -and done a damn good job at it too.

After that trial, there was definitely nobody left on his side. 

"So his goal was to vilify himself to all of us..." Shuichi shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it was just his nature, being a straight-laced, truth-seeking detective and all, but he couldn't understand the merit in building such a character. All sixteen of them had already been dealt a crappy lot to begin with (considering their current circumstances, and all), so why make things worse on yourself?

Why go through all that trouble...just to be hated? 

"Actually, why would you even want to stop the killing game? It's just just starting to get fun! It'd be a waste to stop now."

"This fun and vicious killing game is the only thing on my mind! I will drag this world into the pits of terror, using my villainous power to commit evil."

"Hey Kaito! If you're gonna lie, then you might as well do it better! Do you think you can make the killing game more exciting with a crappy lie like that!?"

A few of them had mentioned it before, but whenever Kokichi spoke like that, it almost seemed as if he...he was...

…!!

Suddenly, all the pieces began falling into place. 

"Wait– No." Shuichi shook his head, ruffling through his notes in disbelief. And as the pages and pages of messy scribbles and smudged words flew by, generating a soft wind against his cheeks, the detective knew that he'd finally found the answer.

It was so obvious...so stupidly apparent, that Shuichi wondered how he'd managed to overlook it.

Maybe, it was because he'd focused too much on all the wrong, meaningless details and lost sight of the big picture. 

Or maybe, it was because he barely focused on the picture at all.

Shuichi sprang up from his chair, incredulous. "Why would he do that!?" 

It was incomprehensible -Ouma was incomprehensible.

Why anyone in their right mind would strive to adopt such a role, he had no idea. It was stupid and reckless -not just for him, but for all of them. 

"Hey, Shuichi." 

The detective blinked, his hands planted firmly on the bureau as the mess of paper called out to him. 

"The one who will win this game...is me." 

…

That's right. 

This, to him -it's all a game.

Slowly, Shuichi sat back down, tucking in his chair and inking in a new set of annotations. 

"If I want that information," he began muttering as he narrowed his yellow-gray eyes, "I'm just going to have to play." 

There was no way that the leader would just up and give away that kind of information if asked. No, because Kokichi even said it himself that he enjoys playing on hard mode. 

If he wanted to obtain information on him, Shuichi knew that he'd have to work for it. To prepare the proper questions and answers in advance, and fight for it.

"If you're planning to expose a liar, then you have to corner them psychologically, right?" He quoted, smirking down at his page. "Only then will they reveal their true self." 

And so, for next couple of hours, all the detective did was write. Ideas, questions, explanations -anything that could be helpful. 

From quotes to actions, he analyzed what he could and poured his thoughts onto the pages. His feelings and deductions -all of it.

Until finally, Shuichi was satisfied. 

It took a while, actually, a lot longer than he was willing to admit, but after dumping all of his thoughts onto the paper, the detective couldn't help but feel strangely relieved and honestly, a little proud.

He hadn't had that much fun in a while, at least, not since that dreaded murder case he'd solved back when he was twelve.

Investigating without any lives on the line for once was refreshing, and reminded Shuichi of why he used to enjoy helping out his uncle so often.

It gave him an outlet to express his thoughts on important matters, a purpose during the otherwise uneventful days. And whenever one of his deductions had proven to be correct...

It gave him confidence.

"I think that’s everything..." he muttered happily, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms towards the ceiling. "Even if it’s not, it doesn’t matter. At this point, I’m convinced."   

Looking down at his notebook filled to the brim with notes, corrections and various little indicator doodles beside key passages, the detective grimaced. I can’t believe I was so stupid.

He quickly bounded to his feet, and immediately regretted it as pins and needles prickled underneath the skin of his numb legs like tiny daggers. Still, as soon as the blood flow returned to his limbs, the detective was grabbing his notebook and out the door.

In the short span of a few hours, Shuichi had learned a lot about the Ultimate Supreme Leader, likely much more than the boy had intended for him to know. Things that gave him pause and made him reconsider multiple times over what the leader's ambitions and true intentions were...

He really managed to fool us all.

Shuichi shook his head, tucking his notebook beneath his arm. Adrenaline coursed rapidly through his veins as he locked the door behind him and in a swift movement, made his way to the stairs. 

In his ears, he could practically hear his heart thumping with anticipation, bracing itself for the long conversation that was ahead of him.

All the while, a single thought pushed him ever-forward up the stairs-

–I need to talk to Kokichi.

Shuichi didn’t care that it was nearly four o'clock in the morning and that the leader was more than likely asleep. He also didn’t care if the sound of his footsteps as he ascended the stairs to the second level woke up everyone in the dorm.

This was important.

And given the nature of the situation they presently were all in, he couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

As soon as he reached Kokichi's room, he buzzed the doorbell and waited. 

…

…

…

No dice.

But that didn't stop him. 

Closing his hand into a fist, he began knocking (admittedly, a little overzealously) on the door, hoping that the sound would be enough to wake the supreme leader if he was asleep. The detective then let a few additional beats pass, listening carefully once again for any sign of movement or general presence on the other side of the door.

Then, a sudden thought occurred to him.

What if he was already awake before I knocked...?

"..."

Taking a few seconds to imagine himself in the reverse scenario, Shuichi could only picture one reaction on the other side of the door.

Oh crap, he probably thinks I’m here to murder him or something! What do I do? What should I say?

But there was no time to waste, and so Shuichi spat out the first thing that came to mind. "U-Um...Ouma? Can we talk?"

Silence...

Silence...

Then a low mutter and the sound of shuffling filled the detective's ears.

A moment later, the door opened a crack, revealing a sliver of the room's resident, still clad in his typical white pants and tattered straitjacket-like top. The only thing different since their last encounter, Shuichi noticed, was the missing checkered scarf that usually adorned his neck. 

Has he not slept either? 

Taking into account his ragged appearance, Shuichi deduced that it was highly unlikely that he had abruptly woken the leader. And while the detective was honestly pretty relieved, *that* in and of itself begged a new question: What is he doing up so late?

But, even as he stared quizzically at him, Kokichi didn’t say a word, which was odd for him. Usually, he’d swing open the door gleefully whenever Shuichi came to visit, and instantly launch off into some crude joke or elaborate tale of his misadventures with his subordinates.

However, for whatever reason, that currently wasn’t the case.

And that left Shuichi to fill the awkward silence.

"Can I, uh, er...come in?"

For a moment, Kokichi just stared at him blankly, making no effort to open the door further and show any more of himself. Though, from what Shuichi could (barely) see, he looked tired, his violet eyes, while still focused, noticeably less sharp and beginning to cloud over. 

"Hmm..."

Shuichi jumped, a little startled by the voice and how raw it sounded. 

"Nope!"

He blinked. 

Kokichi just grinned back at him, as usual.

But something was off.

For one thing, the leader didn’t pop the 'p' in his ' Nope !' like he normally would, but even beyond that, there was something...something that the detective couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Pushing down a sigh, Shuichi inhaled a deep breath and prepared himself.

Here we go.

Chapter Text

Shuichi Saihara was not naïve. A bit slow on the uptake at times, sure, but he was definitely no fool. 

If you're planning to expose a liar, then you have to corner them psychologically. 

To the detective, that meant a few things. One, that he'd need to set traps. Use casual, seemingly innocent banter to ease the liar into conversation, then cautiously steer him down a certain path. And two, once his guard was down, strike fast and be prepared for retaliation. 

Kokichi is smart. He can sniff out lies and intentions as easily as he breathes, so I *need* to be careful. 

That meant seemingly minimal effort to control conversation, and absolutely zero bullshit.   

It was suspicious enough that he'd come knocking in the middle of night and, quite frankly, Shuichi considered himself lucky that the leader even opened his door. But that was only the first of many steps, and things were only going to get more difficult from here on out, starting with his request for entry. 

Given their current standing, Shuichi could already predict how things would play out.

He'd ask.

He'd get denied.

And once again, they'd both be at a standstill.

Both be left to drown in the ever-present sea of awkward silence.

Not to mention, there was the distinct possibility of Kokichi slamming the door in his face, which unfortunately, the more Shuichi thought about it, seemed the most plausible route.  

It's obvious that he doesn’t want me in his room.

Whether that was because he was hiding something or just hated having his personal space compromised...the detective wasn’t sure. But judging from the tense body language apparent through the crack of the door as well as the over-analyzing eyes that continued to stare him up and down with tamed eagerness, he could infer the former. 

Still, he posed the question anyway. If only as a formality –a show of goodwill, as some would say. Were the door to be slammed in his face now, he’d deal with it. But at the very least, his intentions would be clear.

I have something important to say. This will take a while. You probably won’t want other people to hear.

And were he not so tired and torn by this delirious encounter, Kokichi would’ve gotten his message loud and clear. More than likely, would've had the good sense to send Shuichi away until morning, and put a quick end to this already overdrawn out night.

Instead, however, only a single thought passed through the leader's mind.

Saihara is here.

A void statement.

A pathetic and utterly worthless line conjured by his obviously failing mind as it short-circuited the last of his functioning neurons. 

Saihara is here.

…

Kokichi didn't know what to make of it -of him. 

Showing up here, now, at his doorstep, casually sporting a loose white shirt that draped comfortably over some well-fitted navy joggers. 

Casual Saihara...

And try as he may, he couldn't stop the heat from rising to cheeks. 

At my door... Wait-

What?

Was this a joke?! Or better yet, some cruel trick set up by his traitorous mind? One that was hellbent on twisting the knife that much further into his back?

Shuichi Saihara, on his doorstep, at *this* hour?

Haha, no way.

For as many delusions as he'd taught himself to believe throughout his life and this damn game, this sure as shit wasn't going to fly with the leader. There was just no chance in hell that this was real -that Shuichi, after all was said and done, was knocking on his door, just raring to "chat" at four o’clock in the morning. 

Maybe if he'd cursed at him or at the very least rolled his eyes, Kokichi could've given him the benefit of the doubt. Even some praise, if he were bold enough to whip out a knife and take his chances so soon after the last trial.

But the person standing before him hardly looked sinister, or even mad for that matter. 

Instead, he just looked tired, and perhaps, a touch desperate.

And although he knew it was a dream, the leader fought the urge to reach out a hand and tidy the mussed up mop on his favorite's head. To push back his overgrown bangs and get lost in that crystalline gaze, accentuated by duel arrays of long and beautiful lashes. 

… I should probably end this now.

There wasn't room for such sentimental crap in his plans anymore. Not when he already knew how they ended.

Indulging in such childish fantasies now would only make things worse during the moment of truth. And while they were fun while they lasted, it was about time he put it all to rest.

Clicking his nails together, Kokichi quietly braced himself in the faint spotlight the empty hallway cast upon he and an impossibility.

Au revoir, my beloved. 

And finally pinched himself in the leg.

…

…

…

But Saihara didn't go away.

… Huh?

So he tried a second time, this round, digging his nails extra hard into his clammy forearm.

…

…

…

But still no cut to black, or dramatic fizzle out.

Ha...ha...

Finally, and at this point feeling fairly vexed, he squeezed his cheek.

…But the detective still had yet to disappear, which suggested belatedly to the leader that perhaps this wasn't just some odd fever-dream being conjured by his crippling mind. 

It was real.

Shuichi was real.

Standing there, staring at him as Kokichi eyed him skeptically through the open sliver.

What the-

He then asked him a question. Something about entry to his room or whatever, but amidst all the other questions beginning to swarm his collapsing brain, the leader barely even processed it.

-What is he doing here?

And for a moment he just stared at the detective, analyzing...assessing...evaluating. Or at least, that's what told himself he was doing.

In reality, he was just stalling -waiting for his brain to catch up and explain what the hell was happening right now.

Why Shuichi was here, of all places, after everything he'd said and done tonight. Why he wasn't sleeping at this hour like (almost) everyone else.

Isn't *he* tired!?

-Kokichi knew damn well that he, for one, was. And somehow, that made the detective's presence all the more illogical and unnerving.

What the hell?

Was it an ambush after all? An attempt to confuse him and strike when he least expected it?

But then...why hasn't he moved yet?

It wasn't as though Saihara would have much trouble overpowering him, especially in this state. Not only that, but he had height and the added benefit of surprise on his side, so...why wasn't he getting to it?

…

Oh, right. 

Kokichi suddenly recalled the line with which the detective had summoned him to the door. 

*He* wants to talk.

In the silence, Shuichi only stared back blankly, idly fiddling with the hem of his shirt. And as he pulled and rolled the white fabric around his right index in an unconscious, repetitive motion, the leader was forced to wonder.

… Why?

But as he searched for answers in the detective's stance and breathing pattern. In that nervous repetition at his hips and the smallest of twitches in his face, he noticed an increasingly concerned look being directed back at him. 

Blinking slow, he observed Shuichi shift in place, as though trying to get a better angle on him, looking at once both confused and slightly more nervous than earlier. 

Was he...waiting for something? 

Kokichi pondered, humming mindlessly to himself.

That's when he finally remembered: Shuichi had asked him a question.

Right. He wants to invade my humble hellhole.

And so, easing into a practiced grin, Kokichi silently cursed his taller counterpart for making him perform so late. For always occupying his thoughts and commanding his attention against his own will, even when he was busy making plans and theorizing, trying to end this stupid killing game.

Now that he thought about it...Shuichi sure had a lot of nerve, didn't he? Waltzing up here and demanding entry.

…It was just a *tiny* bit irritating.

Okay.

Slowing his breath, the leader heaved an internal sigh and plastered on a hollow smile, mercilessly denying his favorite's request.

Go away.

And though he'd meant to say it with passion, with venom, dripping from every syllable he spat, that too, came out endlessly hollow and breathless.

Dejected instead of playful.

Defeated instead of angry.

Even Saihara seemed to briefly widen his eyes, surprised by the lackluster reply.

…

But that was okay. The detective had taken him by surprise, after all, so it was no wonder that he was a little off his game right now.

He'd regain momentum soon enough.

…He just needed to properly calm down. 

To focus. 

"Okay, then..." Shuichi continued wistfully, briefly glancing down at his feet. Kokichi fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Yeah, like I'd ever believe that you're *actually* disappointed. Give me a break. 

The leader hadn't forgotten the acrid look the detective had given him as he slammed the door in his face during their last encounter. His burning gaze and absolutely stellar attitude...they were etched into the corners of his mind. 

But it seemed that Shuichi had already forgotten that. Or at least, chose to disregard it in favor of pursuing...whatever this was.

And it didn't look like he planned on giving up any time soon.

"Can you," Shuichi spoke calm and evenly, tilting his head while vaguely gesturing at the barrier between them, "at least open the door a little wider...?"

…

And all at once, Kokichi stopped breathing. 

Haha...what? 

Was he actually...?

"O-Or if you prefer," the detective quickly amended, "come out into the hall and–"

Woooow. Could you *be* any more suspicious, Shuichi?

It was laughable, really, how utterly oblivious the Ultimate Detective could be at times. 

My bad, Ultimate Apprentice Detective. 

Still, as a reward for making him laugh, Kokichi found himself opening the door anyway, double, and even triple checking over his shoulder to make sure that the royal mess behind him was properly obscured by the darkness. There was just something about the look in Saihara's eye that intrigued him, that despite all the warning signs, managed to take hold of his curiosity and turn it into his most defining trait.

It wasn't a wise decision, Kokichi would soon learn, but then again, he was already way past out of his mind.

What was one more bad decision added to the list?

And so, looking way past tired and more than a little irritated, he gave in and complied with his favorite's second request, opening the door just wide enough so that Shuichi could see his entire body from head to toe, but not so wide that he could chance a glimpse into his room's sorry state.

"What do you want, Saihara?"

And though he wasn't yet at back full capacity, Kokichi was beginning to find his role again, and regain control. 

Better delivery, but still weak overall. 

Luckily, for what his voice lacked in tone and stability, his face more than made up for, simultaneously expressing both his intrigue and severe lack of patience. All in a single, careless sideways glance.

Talk, but make it quick. 

"Uh..."

Shuichi blinked, a little speechless. Truthfully, he'd been preparing to get the door slammed in his face, so this was a welcome, albeit odd, change of pace. Not only that, but for Kokichi to so easily and openly show him just how...unkempt he looked at this hour -the detective's mind could only continue to reiterate, and confirm, that something was most definitely wrong.

But the leader only watched on as he said nothing and simply stood there, mouth agape like a dead fish.

…Until the realization finally dawned on him.

Shit-

He wasn't wearing any makeup right now. And, more than likely, smelled let's say, less than pleasant given where he'd spent the majority of his night...

Well...it was too late to slam the door now, huh?

"Ouma...are you–"

At least he’d had the good sense to hide his poorly bandaged hand behind his back.

"Think very carefully before you speak, Shuichi." The leader quickly warned in an icy cold voice, plastering on an obviously strained grin to further emphasize the severity of his words.

One word about my appearance and I’ll strangle you right here, on the spot.

Luckily, Shuichi got the message and soon proceeded to recompose himself, coughing nervously to the side and unnecessarily straightening his back. It didn’t change the fact that he was worried about the small leader and the bruises dotting his abnormally pale skin, but, if this discussion went well, they could address it later. For now, he needed to take hold of the chance that Ouma's negligence had given him, and seize it. Strike, while the iron was hot, and preemptively prepare for the inevitable counter-attack.

Okay, let's start from the beginning.

Gathering his thoughts, Shuichi firmly planted his feet into the ground and in quiet, but bold voice, began his attack.

"I couldn’t sleep, so for the past few hours, I've been thinking."

Discretely, he observed Ouma's reaction, but it hadn’t changed much from it's previous frightening grin. If anything, it became a little more dubious, but still did nothing to suggest that he was any less irritated.

Good. At the very least, I can tell that he's listening to me.

Taking a breath, Shuichi continued. "About the trials, our fellow classmates, our whole situation, and," making direct eye contact with the leader, "...about you."

Kokichi's eyes widened slightly at the end, but only for a moment.

He was...thinking about me?

Huh.

Now that was something he hadn't expected to hear tonight. 

Because, as much as he liked to joke with Saihara about always being the object of his mind's affection, Kokichi never suspected it'd *ever* actually be the case.

Did he smack his head or something?

And although the leader would never admit it –not to himself and definitely not to the boy detective standing in front of him– a part of him was happy. A small, foolish part of him that still felt something for that pretty smile, and longed for the undivided attention and affection rooted in those honey-colored eyes. 

You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

And just as quickly, he smothered it.

"I thought about the chain of events that lead to Iruma's death and the ones that followed just before the trial," Shuichi continued regardless and none the wiser.

Whatever.

It was fine.

He'd already decided to forget about it anyways, so what did it even matter anymore? 

It wasn't like Shuichi would ever return these feelings, and in a couple more days, he'd be free from them regardless. He just had to iron out a *few* more details and they'd be set. And if this worked (it had to), then, inevitably, they'd both get what they wanted.

But you don't actually *want* to die.

Keeping his mouth shut...was for the best.

…

What was Shuichi saying again? Something about Iruma and the trial? 

Although he'd been mostly spaced out, Kokichi swore he heard something about a "chain of events" leading up to one thing or another in there.

Chain of events...trial...the sow...is he asking me about why I killed her? But I already– 

"...?" 

Noticing an object that eerily resembled a notebook tucked under the detective's arm, the leader froze. 

What's *that*?

How had managed to miss that up until now? It wasn't as though it was well hidden.

...Is *that* where he's pulling all the bullshit confidence from? 

Eyeing it cautiously, he thought back on the start of their conversation. 

"I've been thinking. About the trials, our fellow classmates, our whole situation and...about you."

And finally, in spite of his exhaustion, Kokichi was beginning to understand.

Thinking...me...Iruma...chain of events...trial...

–Wait a minute.

Is *that* what was going on? Was Shuichi really...? 

Man...he can’t be *that* stupid, right?

Throwing a pitying glance the detective's way, the leader shifted, standing just a little straighter. 

Nah, I'm overthinking it. Sure, he can be a little slow at times, but Shuichi isn't like me. He isn't-

"Before we left the Virtual World to investigate Iruma's body, you attempted to strike a deal with me, remember?"

-Stupid.

"I’m here tonight because I’ve changed my mind."

The leader tensed, feeling his heart clench under Saihara's tender gaze. A gaze, not dissimilar to the one he'd worn while condemning their darling gentleman entomologist to death.

"Whatever your terms, I accept your deal." He spoke boldly, assuredly –as though the simple extension of an inviting arm and a tempting half-smile would fix everything. Make him rewrite the ending of an already finished script. "I won’t dump Maki and Kaito, but I’ll be your friend, Kokichi."

…

Friend, huh? 

Kokichi hated how that word sent his heart soaring. How hearing it from Shuichi's mouth made him almost willing to actually do it, to just forgive and forget everything.

Even after proclaiming, how many times tonight, that he was done?

He's not serious, idiot. Quit getting so worked up.

Was he really that weak? That all it took was a few words from his beloved and all was forgiven?

...No. 

After everything he'd done, everything he'd worked for, he had a *little* more self-respect than that. 

No matter how badly he had fallen for the man in front of him, Kokichi knew when to hit the breaks. Where to draw the line to protect himself –whatever that meant. 

And this was it.

I don't know what he thinks he's doing, but it's waaay too late for any of that now. 

To begin with, why had Shuichi even come to such a sudden epiphany, when just hours ago he could only eye him with contempt? He said he’d been thinking...theorizing and whatnot, but could a person really change their opinion that quickly?

If the detective thought for even a second that he'd believe any of that crap, after everything that's happened...then he sure had a lot of nerve.

"Well unfortunately for you, dearest," he played it up, but for once allowed a hint of genuine anger to slip into his voice, "that was an ultra-rare, super-mega, incredibly special limited-time offer that's already looong expired."

Shrugging, he shook his head and rolled back on his heels, a shit-eat grin finding its way naturally on his lips. 

I don’t know what you *think* you know Saihara, but I’m not letting you screw me over again. You had your chance back in the Virtual World; you're not getting another one even if you cry and beg for it.

"Fine." Shuichi said flatly, closing his eyes as though in deep thought. And while admittedly, he was sad to see his streak of good luck end there, he always knew it was only a matter of time. Opening his eyes again, he smiled calmly with renewed purpose, knowing that he'd get the chance to show off the fruits of his investigator's mind, and boldly exclaimed. "That was only the first try."

"Eh?" Kokichi cocked his head, making sure that he heard that correctly. "'First try'? Does that mean you’re seriously trying to break into my room right now, Shuichi??" 

Gasping, the liar brought a hand to his chest in mock-shock at the outrageous announcement, noticeably real beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow.

First try? 

"But that’s private!!" Breaking out his signature wail, he spared no mercy on the detective's eardrums despite the less than two meter distance between them. "H-How could youuuu?!"

Shuichi only sighed, unsure of whether to laugh or simply continue from where he last left off. As annoying as the leader’s tantrums usually were, he had to hand it to him this time. He definitely did not think that Kokichi even had the energy to do all that considering the state he was in, but it seemed like he really was a true professional.

That or he's just desperate to get rid of me.

The detective concluded, not missing how he tugged at his right sleeve.

"Alright, moving on..."

"Hey!! Don’t just ignore me!!" 

"Just so you know," the detective’s voice cut through, instantly silencing the leader's cries and half-hearted protests, "from here on out, I can’t guarantee that you'll be comfortable with everything I’m about to say... Even if a lot of it is purely my own conjecture."

–He didn’t miss Kokichi's subtle twitch at that statement either. 

Retracting the notebook from under his arm, the detective flipped to a certain page, allowing himself to focus, for a moment, on the words rather than the person they described, and landed on a particular paragraph. 

There. 

That would be his next step.

"You like games right, Ouma?" A sugary-sweet smile coated his soft lips, voice mellow like liquid honey. Tiny sparks flickered brilliantly in Shuichi's sharpened gaze, but in truth, they didn’t even represent a fraction of his determination. "If so, then please indulge me for a little while in this one."

…

Someone's cocky. 

Then again, confidence didn't look bad on the detective's pretty features. And although the situation was less than ideal, the leader found himself oddly craving more. 

Fine. I'll play your game, Saihara. 

If Shuichi wanted to play Sherlock, he didn't mind indulging him for a little bit. 

But this time, I'll make *sure* you get it through your thick skull. 

Narrowing his eyes, he allowed the match to be struck, lighting his body with a new flame.

Just how dangerous a game can be. 

An amused smirk creeping onto his lips, the leader imagined all the ways in which this could go horribly wrong. For Shuichi, for him, for the both of them.

And though he normally did his best to take caution, he always loved the electrifying feeling that came with charging head-first into the unknown with minimal rehearsal. 

Leave it to Shuichi to keep things interesting. I wonder how far he's willing to go?

Who would be the first to crack? To let weakness show?

To take control of this already twisted narrative and spin it in their favor?

"Alright." He was excited to see it, the result of this exchange, this utterly pointless debate. Excited, to watch the detective struggle to solve a case he had yet to realize was far out of his depth.

Unlike our little games in the past, I won't let you win this one.

Kokichi swore both to himself and to the detective. 

"Let's have some fun, Shumai."

Chapter Text

"The rules are simple," Shuichi begins and Kokichi can't help but remark how the moonlight in the hall traces his resolute figure with a soft, yet emphatic white glow. In contrast to his own beaten and haggard form, obscured mostly in the shadows of his mess of a room, the detective looks clean and pure. Perhaps, even borderline angelic.

Not at all like the crazy person he was currently proving himself to be; attempting to do something as absurd as coaxing a suspicious character from his room in the dead of night. 

To play a game, of all things. 

And although Kokichi wasn't one to back down from a challenge, even *he* had to admit that the timing was atrocious.

Let's just get this over with.

It was a minor miscalculation on his part, really, to believe that Saihara was rational. To believe that he'd continue to let himself to be swept up by the flow of things, the schemes and vicious pull of the game. All, while cowering forever under the dumb title of sidekick. 

Saihara was and always had been a hero.

A protagonist, in this twisted story.

It was thanks to him that they progressed relatively smoothly through each debate and eventually, managed to out each culprit. Thanks to him that any of them were even still alive.

So...you've finally learned the weight of your role, is that it?

What it meant to step out from the sidelines and grasp the lead with an iron grip. To be a beacon of light in a blackout house -the advantages of being the protagonist.

"Just before the murder occurred, I went to the salon to check on you. But you weren't there."

As well as the truth that came with such a role's undertaking-

I see... You use underhanded tactics, too. Huh, Shuichi?

-and all of it's implications.

To put himself out there when the people needed him most; it granted the detective not just their trust, but their fealty. Not simply their impulsive agreement, but their infinite support.

Saihara, who held the right of the protagonist in this game, held the ultimate weapon-

Unconditional loyalty.

"Well of course I'm gonna believe Shuichi!"

"I believe Shuichi 100%!"

"The one who's not Kokichi."

Indisputable authority.

"Sorry, but...Gonta believe Shuichi too."

A weapon, that could never belong to the likes of a villain like him.

A little late, but...I can work with this.

And up until tonight, it had never particularly bothered the leader how the detective chose to run his show.

"That's wrong!"

"This is the truth of the case!"

In fact, he had decided early on that it was quite entertaining.

The way Saihara cut through the riff-raff and and guided them towards the inevitable conclusion; always pressing for all the right details in between.

"It connects!"

"I'll reveal the truth!"

It was all great fun.

That is, until suddenly-

"But you weren't there."

-the light was cast in his direction.

…

"So, who are you guys gonna believe?"

And, though he was hardly a spectator in their little show of blood and plethoric hormones...

"Shuichi...or me?"

…the liar never did take kindly to incriminating impromptu demands.

Aww, how boring.

To being shoved under a spotlight, where seven pairs of accusatory eyes stared back at him like hungry wolves.

Watching, waiting -with bated breath, for the right moment to tear into their prey.

Devour him -until, there was nothing left but brittle bone. 

Still-

Kokichi wasn't stupid.

The moment the words had left his beloved's mouth, he *knew* that he was screwed. 

Doomed, actually, by a lie so shitty, it no longer bordered on just insulting.

-was that *really* the best you could do, Saihara?

Something so obvious, so -so instigative.

…Or are you just *trying* to piss me off?

To show the extent of his influence by making a mockery of his every effort.

To prove that it was all futile, so long as he claimed it so-

Either way, it was all Saihara's loyal dogs needed.

"One hundred house points-no, Himiko points!-to Shuichi!"

"Oh well. I'll believe Shuichi anyway."

Eagerly wagging their tails and barking on his command.

All in spite -the liar might add- of the awfully clear disbelief on each of their snarling faces.

"Heh, what comes around goes around!"

They truly were all so devoted to their master. 

"That's what happens to liars like you!"

Really...truly...

Alright.

A fearsome weapon to behold.

If *that's* how you want it, Saihara, then so be it. I hope you're prepared.

To suffer the recoil that came with firing such a hefty bullet.

Making a fool of me while using *my* tactics...

Better yet, suggesting an impossible scenario in which he was a killer...

Shuichi wouldn't get away with it. 

… You want the truth, Saihara?

The leader held the detective's gaze for a moment, etches of regret beginning to settle into his delicate, paling face.

…

Fine. 

"I'll tell you if you wanna know that badly! Consider this my revenge."

If Saihara insisted on making it boring, then so would he. 

"You've got some balls lying to me."

And, in exchange for such a crappy lie-

"I'm gonna take away your fun for pissing me off, Shuichi."

-he'd offer a worse truth. 

A harsh truth, that would shatter their collective delusions of a painless escape. A truth, that they'd regret ever wanting to pursue.

"Well then... The culprit is Gonta."

"… What?"

A truth...in which they'd regret everything.

…

…

…

The shift in atmosphere was instantaneous.

…

From vague disquiet to more pronounced shock.

Disbelief, to thundering outrage.

The courtroom descended into what could only be described as pure chaos.

"W-W-Wait! When did Gonta kill Miu!?"

"That's a lie! He didn't kill her! Kokichi's just lying!"

"Why you...Now you're trying to pin things on Gonta!?"

A real explosion of the absolute worst kind of emotion.

"Do you really expect us to believe such an obvious lie!?"

…

…

…

Ha. Ha...ha.

The liar couldn't have been more proud.

You think you can just do whatever you want because you're the protagonist, huh?

Saihara freezes up under his gaze, matching faces with a deer caught in a bright, shiny pair of new headlights.

And belatedly, he realizes who had really been backing who into a corner this whole time.

Lie to *me* of all people? Ahahahaha!

Soaking it all in, the leader smiled.

I'll curb that baseless arrogance of yours, detective.

Nay, he'd show them all-

Let this be a lesson to you, courtesy of yours truly.

Playing friends, acting like everything was gonna be alright -it was unfathomably dumb.

Dumber than most other thoughts that seemed to cross their collective braincell each day.

Dumber than every failed plan and every restless night spent frantically dreaming up new distractions.

-It was arrogant.

The type of game they were all caught up in; it wasn't some joke that they could later laugh off. Nor some daydream that they'd eventually awake from if they waited long enough. 

It was a game of death.

Of suspicion and betrayal.

 Of desperation and...

"U-Ummm...Gonta not understand what's going on. But still..."

…of human cruelty.

"Then let me ask you guys... If it's not Gonta, then who's the culprit?"

…

It didn't give two shits about their feelings.

Well, beyond their entertainment value at any rate.

Gonta! If you understand, then do it right! Make logical arguments for the truth!"

…

Haphazardly throwing around words like "belief" and "trust" -it was all useless. Serving only to dramatize the next moment when another body inevitably hit the floor.

"What I'm trying to say is...if you aren't the culprit, then you gotta prove that you aren't!"

…Just like all those assholes on the outside wanted.

That was the nature of the game they were playing -a death match in which even the kindest of souls learned what it meant to snap. A competition where mindless cooperation was cursed to fail from the start; making all of its participants, no matter their team, more miserable in the process. A fool's game.

All for the entertainment of the most vile individuals in existence.

…

It...

It was infuriating.

Disgusting.

Fucking unbearably exhausting to continue performing for such wretched creatures.

So why...

Why couldn't any of them just get a clue already!?

Why, despite every sign, every warning against it, did they insist on keeping up with such a tiresome charade!?

It was...

It was pathetic-

"Pathetic? Look at yourself Kokichi." 

The words echoed in his mind like a persistent headache.

A dull, ugly incessant noise.

Oh, I am, Saihara. 

…

But...how about you?

Glancing up at the detective, the leader shifted his weight in silence. 

Just what kind of expression will you show me tonight? 

"I'll present three arguments for you to pick apart and refute," Shuichi explains dutifully, the rules of their game -perhaps, the final match they'll ever get to play together within the confines of these suffocating walls. In a strange way, its nostalgic, he thinks. If not also, a little relieving to know that this time, he wasn't gambling for his life.

But rather, something much more important.

"If you can manage to successfully shut all three of them down, you win."  

It was simple, really.

Just like a class trial, Shuichi would present his theories and put them up for debate, allowing them to be scrutinized and, if incorrect, properly refuted. There were no restrictions or limits to how his opponent could refute each claim -Kokichi was free to lie as much as he wished. Either way, it wasn't like Shuichi would be able to stop him.

Not that it matters-

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

From his doorway, the liar sighs, a hint of mild amusement betraying the feigned cold indifference in his voice. And, without looking in his eyes- 

"A game's no fun without any stakes."

Ah, of course.

Shuichi nods, with a knowing smile.

There'd be no point to this otherwise.

"I was just getting to that."

And, although it's barely noticeable, Kokichi's jaw tightens the slightest bit.

"If you win, then you can decide your own prize." The detective proceeds calmly, tone steady and clear as polished glass. "But if I win," he pauses, holding the tense air in quiet anticipation, "you're going to tell me everything that I want to know."

The whole story.

"Hmm." Kokichi purrs thoughtfully, observing the subtle crease in his favorite's brow. Observing the way he stands tall, towering above him a whole fifteen worthless centimeters, while exhibiting such silly egotism.

And it's cute, he thinks, even charming of Saihara to believe, for even a measly second, that he has a shot.

"You say that as though you've already won."

When in the end, he already knew it was just an empty threat. 

Let's see if you have the resolve to keep up such a cocky attitude, Mister Detective.

I won't let you off easy this time, y'know.

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corners of the leader's lips, pulling them into a thin smile that was beyond amused -a smile representative of just how much he planned to enjoy this. And, as he immediately captures his opponent's gaze, his heart can't help but leap.

Watching, as the latter took an unconscious step back, his tiny mouth parting until it held slightly agape.

Nee-heehee...

Shuichi is quick to catch himself, though.

Even still...the frustration on his face-

See?

An intangible voice spat mockingly, ironically imperious.

The liar grinned wider.

He's already wavering.

"But I guess that just makes it all the more fun to watch you crumble." 

"...Let’s resume where we last left off then, shall we?" 

Shaking off that momentary lapse, Shuichi takes a breath and focuses.

I can't let him get to me.

Back straight, eyes forward -just like his uncle had taught him while he was growing up.

Just like Kaede had wished for him.

He'd-

I'll...believe in myself. 

In the truth he had found, and in his abilities to uncover said truth -Shuichi Saihara would place his trust.

Manifest the same faith in from deep within that the others had in him.

And give it his everything. 

I won't use excuses like "I'm only useful after it's already too late," anymore.  

The detective resolved, raising his chin and clutching every bit of courage close to his chest.

I'll *prove* that my detective talent is worth more than that!

Maybe then, they could finally start to move forward.

Start to end this awful killing game.

And fulfill their promises to the others.

Tonight...

The liar regards him with a challenging stare.

I'll reveal the truth.

"During the investigation of Iruma's corpse, you stuck to me like glue." Shuichi begins, immediately recalling the leader's vehement insistence on investigating by his side -a s well as his adamant refusal to allow for any interference from Kaito.

Which was odd, to say the least.

Up until this particular case, Kokichi had mostly opted to work alone, after all. Never caring much for things like teamwork or cooperation as all the others did. And although Shuichi couldn't say he was very fond of chasing after him when it came to collecting alibis and comparing testimonies, he couldn't deny that the leader's personal investigations had sometimes proved rather useful during the trials.

Which was why he had to wonder-

What had suddenly changed Kokichi's mind this time around?

Why had he suddenly desired to strike a deal?

And why, even after getting rejected, did he continue attempting to sink his claws into his own personal investigation? 

It was suspicious, in all honesty. 

And quite frankly, incredibly tiresome.

"You practically hissed at anyone who even tried to stop you-"

"-Hissed?" 

The liar echoed, tilting his head innocently to the right.

He had to wonder what *exactly* his dearest detective was going on about. 

It wasn't like he deprived him during the investigation or anything; Shuichi was always free to do as he pleased. Investigate the scene in whatever manner he best saw fit and interrogate whoever the hell he wanted.

It was his show, after all.

And, although, yes, he did, in fact, follow him around for a little while at the beginning, the detective couldn't seriously think that *that* was in any way restrictive enough to warrant such backhanded phrasing.

Unless...

Unless he was referring to *that* incident in particular.

In which case-

Don't flatter yourself, Saihara.

-the situation was out of his control.

Honestly, it wasn't *his* fault that Momota was such a persistent prick. Always butting his nose into things that didn't concern him. Filling their one and only detective's brain with cotton instead of evidence -all, only to take home the credit at the very end, when Shuichi somehow managed to solve the mystery anyway.

Or at least, he attempted to.

Geez, why not steal his lunch money while you're at it?

Kokichi didn't get it; why Shuichi would choose to be friends with such a useless guy. A person, who would only ever hold him back -a hypocrite who preached about trust and belief in others, while keeping one of the biggest secrets of them all.

Hah.

And they called *him* the liar...

It sure was funny how things had worked out.

"What am I? A cat?" Escapes the leader's lips flatly, as his eyes shift and dutifully begin examining his claws. How they've rotted from overuse, now jagged and dull around the edges. "You use some funny words, Mister Detective~" 

"..."

And it's the same as usual, Shuichi thinks.

The same tone, same practiced, infallible expression and yet...

It's different.

…

In place of faux bravado is gritted teeth and tight shoulders; a layer of irritability unlike the normal childish frustration that he was used to.

Almost as though...Ouma was finally starting to take things seriously.

Is he...? 

Still, the detective doesn't linger too long on it.

…I can't let my guard down.

When he blinks, Kokichi stares back him, and, he notes right away that his eyes are a little sharper than before, his back a little straighter. In his peripheral, the leader fidgets with his sleeve again, rubbing the white fabric raw between his thumb and index in slow, mind-numbing motions. Mindlessly working his way up the cuff and yet, his focus never wavers.

"Anyways," and so the detective continues when the silence draws too long, "I thought of a few reasons as to why you bothered doing that."

"Oh?" The liar perks up, suddenly intrigued. Then, without delay releases the hostage sleeve and draws a crooked finger up to his unbruised cheek, smugly challenging. "And why *did* I choose to hang out with the loser Saihara, then?" 

…

And so Shuichi braces himself. 

…

Set traps.

…

Strike fast.

…

And prepare for retaliation.

After this...there was no turning back.

"..."

Heart pounding in his chest, the detective steeled his nerves for the ride to come.

The real game started now.

"You were scared." He begins boldly, in a low, but even voice. "If your aim truly was to set up Gonta as a murder, then it only seems natural you'd be a little freaked out when it actually worked."

Like a charm, he might add.

Because as naïve as the late entomologist had been, Shuichi had quickly come to realize that he wasn't nearly as dim as the others thought. 

Gonta noticed things, minor details. Like the writing in the courtyard and the minuscule bugs buzzing in the lawn. Things that none of them would have even thought twice about. 

And sure, maybe he wasn't the quickest, nor the best when it came to expressing himself in a sound manner, but, as Kokichi had probably already realized himself, he was far from dumb.

Far from incapable.

Whatever "deal" he had made with Kokichi in the Virtual World...it was a mutual agreement. One that should've benefited them both, if he were to go by avatar Gonta's last words.

One, that he imagines, the leader never truly thought he would follow through on. 

"After all, your plans haven't exactly been smooth sailing so far."

From the Insect Meet and Greet incident to the last ditch effort to form a new alliance...

Kokichi actually had quite the history of things not going his way. 

However...for that, he only had himself to blame. 

There was a reason nobody ever listened to a word he spoke. Or rather, only ever heard what they wanted to. 

People didn't trust Kokichi. 

Not his face, nor his plans. 

And certainly nothing that ever came out of his mouth.

And because of that, nobody bothered to give his arguments a second thought -a chance to process beyond the surface level that aligned with each of their individual biases.

Nobody...except for Gonta. 

Gonta, who, no matter what the liar said, always seemed to stay positive and attentive. Who, even despite being warned and discouraged from it, always chose to lend the leader a helping hand in his schemes regardless of the predictably negative consequences. All the way until the bitter end.

Leaving behind nothing but a wish -a final promise, in his wake.

A proof of the bond that they had shared, whatever it's true nature.

One that, contrary to the liar's tasteless mockeries and cruel assertions, affected him much more than he thought it would.

Much more than it ever should have.

Which was why-

"You used me as a way to distance yourself." Shuichi finishes, a familiar ache taking root in his chest, "not just from the crime, but from Gonta." 

From all the unwanted feelings that came with the knowledge of what he'd done. And the knowledge...that he'd soon be dead.

…

It was a scenario that was all too familiar to the detective, having been the first in the game to suffer through it. To share his insight with someone, and watch them quietly use it to craft their own destruction. 

Telling her about that door, the possibility of a mastermind...

Watching her bag that shot without so much as a word…

Shuichi couldn't even begin to describe the regret that consumed him when he was forced to face it; his greatest mistake.

"Kaede...why? Why are you smiling like that...? Why are you still trying to get me to be brave? Why, Kaede!?"

Even now, it wasn't completely gone.

That utterly awful feeling tied to the pointless "what if"s and perfect replays.

I could've stopped her.

I should've said something!

It's all my fault.

It was only muted, subdued by an even stronger feeling.

"Shuichi, you better not lose."

The desire to carry out her will.

"You guys better live!"

To survive, and...

"End this ridiculous killing game, survive and get the hell out of this place!"

...to all become friends. 

"And then...be friends after you escape, okay?" 

"Just promise Gonta...that everyone forgive each other and be friends. Okay?" 

…

"Okay." Kokichi snorted. 

*That* was actually pretty funny.

Saihara's first rationale, depicting him as a coward of all things...

Well, it wasn't *totally* off the mark, he supposed. 

Pushing his dirty work onto others was hardly heroic. Coercing them into signing their own death warrant, even less so.

But it had to be done. 

For the sake of your selfishness.

For the greater good of the game.

And in spite of what the detective thought he knew, Kokichi was well aware of the consequences long before luring their gentle giant into the woods.

Aware, that there was no turning back once the words had left his mouth.

"With this, we can save everyone."

It was precisely because of that, he'd been able to prepare himself.

There's no need to bring emotions into it.

To focus on the necessary ends rather than the unpleasant means. 

"Just wait for my cue, 'kay?"

All so that, when the time came...

"Who cares about that idiot!?"

…he could take the stage.

"You're alone, Kokichi. And you always will be."

And begin the final act.

The true finale of the show to end all shows, that would undoubtedly send their hearts racing in the ugliest way. 

An ending, fit for participants and audiences alike. 

"That kind of cowardice is just like Monokuma!"

…

Perhaps some would see it that way.

…

Perhaps, he already did.

"Another reason," Shuichi carries on, "as to why working with me would prove beneficial to you has to do with the investigation itself." 

More specifically...the result of it. 

"By my side," the detective elucidates, deliberately narrowing his eyes, "you could easily manipulate the situation to your advantage."

And therefore...direct the flow of the trial right from the start.

…

Shuichi wasn't dense.

He knew exactly how much everyone depended on him during the trials to find the truth of the case. To keep the spotless alive and weed out the blackened before the start of Voting Time.

The weight of his words, the role he'd been entrusted with...

He understood well just what exactly that burden entailed.

Sacrifice.

Blame.

Guilt.

Regret. 

But most of all, culpability.

He knew the deadly consequences that'd ensue if his conclusion was wrong. And yet, despite the diminishing number of possible culprits, the pressure growing in his chest had never ceased. Expanding and spreading, much like a wildfire turning a lush forest to ash, it frayed each and every last of their nerves until finally-

"Who's side are you on, Shuichi?"

-it peaked.

…

And every time Shuichi voiced his verdict, he could feel his heart pound.

"I-It's..."

His entire body breaking out into a cold sweat, as if desperately trying to reject the words.

Kaede

Kirumi

Korekiyo

Meanwhile, they all quietly watched.

"I-It's...it's...Gonta."

As he condemned yet another unfortunate soul to their death.

…

…

…

What followed next was unarguably the worst part of his job; a part that the detective had come to loathe with every fiber of his being and, eventually, wound up dubbing as the blackened's final stand.

Argument Armament.

An event, in which the culprit would do anything and everything they could to poke holes in his deductions. All the while hurling insult after insult in one last frenzied attempt to cling to a beautiful lie. 

"I can't bet everyone's lives on a deduction made by a self-righteous brat! You can't save anyone!!!"

"I won't acknowledge fiction, mystery. I won't acknowledge...your deductions or guesses."

The yelling...

"I refuse to die in a hellhole like this!"

The crying...

"Gonta kill Miu...forget everything..."

The rambling...

"Come on, apologize. Apologize, apologize. Apologize apologize apologize apologize."

It...

It really was the worst.

But Shuichi couldn't exactly fault them for wanting to live, for being angry at him for denying them that opportunity. 

And so, he took it.

All of their insults, their tears and their lies.

Their hateful gazes that scorned his very existence.

Their melancholic goodbyes when acceptance had at last come around and grounded them.

Along with their final wishes...

He took them all, while bearing the guilt.

The knowledge that, despite Monokuma being the one to orchestrate each elaborate death sequence, he was the real executioner.

And that, after four trials, the amount of blood on his hands was now impossible to wash off.

"I've...I've never been that strong of a person." Shuichi admits quietly, voice dipping into something vulnerable, all too recognizable, yet still terrifyingly unfamiliar to his own ears. "Despite how sure of myself I may seem during the trials, the truth is that I'm just as scared of getting it wrong as everyone else."

Scared...of disappointing them, of screwing them all over.

Scared...of making the one fatal mistake that could never be undone. 

…

Maybe it would be better if we all just died.

Kokichi couldn't deny that the thought had crossed his mind as he watched his companion sob like a child in the fake snow.

And that was what made this plan so perfect.

Either everyone would vote correctly and, save for his associate, live to see another day. Or, vote incorrectly and die, screwing the mastermind in the process.

A veritable win-win, no matter how he looked at it.

(Or, so he told himself.)

"With the amount of pressure I was already feeling back then," the detective conceded, eyes grazing the floor between them, "I wouldn't have noticed anything." Raising his head again, he then offered the leader an unsettlingly gentle smile and in a soft voice, finished. "Not even your attempt to protect Gonta by distracting me." 

Pro...tect?

"I can tell just based off of your reaction during the trial that you didn't know about the error with Gonta's avatar." He adds, quietly. "And, not knowing that, it makes sense that you'd want to keep *me* distracted in case he accidentally let something slip."

Even though...letting him slip up would've actually been *more* beneficial.

"You wanted to protect him." 

…

You wanted to protect him.

…

You wanted to protect him.

The words echoed loudly in the back of the leader's mind.

Protect him...?

Protect him? 

Aha...

No.

No, if he'd really *wanted* to protect everyone's favorite bug boy, then he wouldn't have set him up in the first place.

Wouldn't have- wouldn't have shown him that bullshit light full of bullshit memories.

Wouldn't have encouraged him to grab that toilet paper and follow him up to the roof!

He wouldn't...

Wouldn't have let him strangle the life out her.

Protect him...shit.

The liar's mind reeled, though he'd be damned should he ever have to admit it.

First I'm a coward and now I'm some sort of hero...

"The last-" 

Are you messing with me, Shuichi?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down there, mister." Kokichi interrupts before he can continue further, pressing a delicate little finger to the detective's soft lips in a surefire scheme to, at the very least, momentarily shut him up. And, as he does, he can't help but revel in the minor twitch Saihara makes in response to the unexpected contact; his previously adorable face rapidly scrunching and morphing into something spectacularly awful.

(Still, for whatever reason, the detective doesn't push his hand away.)

"Cleary," and so he continues, "you've been putting that lump of meat you call a brain to work."

Breathing steady, the leader then cautiously lowers his hand.

"But you're forgetting the fundamentals." 

To build any sort of convincing argument, there were a few things that needed to be considered. 

Strength of claims, irrefutability of evidence.

But mainly, one's opponent.

If Saihara wanted to corner him with this so-called game of theirs, then, from the start, he should've built it on more solid foundation.

"...Meaning?"

The logic itself isn't *bad* but, honestly? I'm disappointed. 

Given his earlier display, Kokichi had to admit, he'd expected a little more from their resident detective. More, of a genuine challenge from the beloved protagonist who boasted of midnight epiphanies and the desire to be privy to his all his latest plans.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Saihara still had yet to prove himself as a worthy opponent. 

"First off, isn’t it bold of you to assume that I had any ulterior motive?" 

-It was *that* easy to topple the house of cards that he was building. Because, in the end, that's all it was.

Just flimsy theories stacked up, one on top of the other, in a frantic attempt to adhere himself to a false truth. 

*He* was scared of getting linked to the crime?

*He* wanted to protect Gonta?

Aha.

Please.

As *if* he'd ever be so spineless, or so noble. 

Apprentice detective? At the end of the day, you're still nothing more than a complete amateur.

And very suddenly, Kokichi was glad that the detective had turned down his original proposition. Looking at the person in front of him, he knew now, that it would've never worked out; the two of them, and his plan.

Saihara wouldn't have allowed it.

"Oh, it’s not bold at all." Shuichi raises his voice in retaliation, semi-consciously taking a dangerous step forward. "In fact, I’d argue that assuming you had no ulterior motives would be bold."

… Oh?

"You may be a nut-job, Ouma," he soon continues, the mild irritation in his voice growing increasingly audible, "but it’s easy to tell that your gears are always turning." 

Evaluating. Planning. Scheming.

Even if it was for the sole purpose of getting an amusing reaction-

"You barely do anything without first examining its cost-benefit ratio."

So you've noticed that too, huh?

Kokichi processes, briefly eyeing the strange notebook tucked tightly beneath his arm once again.

…

"But if I win, you're going to tell me everything that I want to know."

…

Hmm....

(And, for the first time, it occurs to him that maybe...just maybe, he has the wrong idea about tonight's intentions.)

"Aw, you wound me, Saihara." He frowns, perfectly mimicking the face of a kicked puppy. 

And for a moment, Shuichi almost feels bad. 

Between the colorful injuries spread across the leader's neck and face to the discernible scratchiness of his voice, it was hard not to acknowledge that the past few days has been rough; the past few hours, especially so. And as he watches the tears well up in his counterpart's eyes, it briefly crosses the detective's mind that perhaps, he's being unreasonably harsh with him. Bombarding him with his theories and explicates while his opponent clearly looked both mentally and physically exhausted beyond his limits to properly process them.

Maybe... Maybe I should ease up a-

That is, until he remembers-

 "...Neehee-hee! As if."

-it was Kokichi Ouma that he was dealing with.

Wearing a bored expression, the leader casts his glance aside, sighing dramatically as though the whole thing was suddenly too much of a pain to bother with anymore. "Fiiiine," he breathes, pushing up a non-committal shrug, "I’ll give you that one. I *am* indeed a calculating person."

As if to demonstrate, the liar then imitates what Shuichi supposes is meant to be his own face when deep in thought, cupping his mouth loosely with trembling white fingers and narrowing his eyes suspiciously at an inoffensive pile of dust. A second more, however, and he's back to his natural, antagonizing smirk again. Parting his lips to exhale one last jeering remark as he reclaims his initial, dispassionate posture. "But out of a hundred, you’re only getting half a point."

"Half...a point?"

Is this his way of...evaluating me?

"Oh come on, Shuichi." Ouma rolls his eyes in response, lazily twirling and tugging at a loose strand of hair with his index. "Even someone as dumb as Momota could tell *that* much. It’s not like I go out of my way to hide it."

"That's-" 

"That's...?"

-bait. 

Shuichi stammers, biting the words back just in time.

Even so, the liar snickers.

You let your guard down, Shumai.

The detective sighs, feeling the beginnings of a new headache surface at the forefront of his skull.

I figured he'd be difficult but...

It still hurt to hear his friend be insulted so nonchalantly.

Kaito, he -he was a good guy, really... Maybe a bit on the stubborn side, and maybe not always the first one to think things through logically.

But, he had a good heart.

And despite their earlier quarrel, Shuichi stood by that.

“Don’t bring Kaito into this." He affirmed, momentarily closing his eyes so as to stave off any unsavory thoughts on the verge of resurfacing

Blood.

Dismissal.

"I don't need your help...Shuichi."

He breathed.

"We're talking about you right now."

"What a boring topic."

The leader groans passively, staring at the ground and taking to kicking lightly at his doorframe like a bored child. 

Sweat noticeably glistens on his features now, drawing thin lines across his forehead and circling down his chin. The manner in which his chest rises and falls, growing increasingly unnatural by the second.

In the background, Shuichi hears the ticking of a nearby clock, reminding him of the late hour. 

"..."

"..."

And exhales.

"We’ve gotten sidetracked," he announces quietly, the phrase regrettably familiar on his tongue as he shifts his weight and adopts a more comfortable stance. "What I was *trying* to say, before you interrupted me, was that your actions may have been rooted in a different motive entirely."

Kokichi glances up at him. Dull eyes sharpening the moment the words leave his mouth-

"A plan to create suspicion and division within the group."

To discourage any further cooperation. 

A plan, he'd been advocating for from the very beginning.

"If you keep saying all this uplifting stuff about working together and cooperating...then you can expect to receive some painful retaliation. Get it?"

They were fourteen then. Fourteen bright, and optimistic.

Fourteen firm believers in the power of Kaede's sacrifice and the promise that there wouldn't be another. 

So, no.

Shuichi hadn't gotten it. Hadn't understood why he'd even suggest something so counterintuitive as splitting themselves up.  

Working together meant strength in numbers, strength in willpower. Meanwhile, working alone left individuals weak, and vulnerable. 

There wasn't any merit to isolating oneself, especially given that they were in a killing game.

…Or so the detective initially thought.

In truth, there were actually quite a few. Benefits, that hadn't even crossed his mind until he sat down and thought about them alone in his room. 

"...!"

It was only then that he finally began to see what the leader had meant.

"I'll admit that I didn't understand it at first," he continues steadily, feeling the solid concrete floors beneath his feet, "but after that last trial...I think I get it now." 

The merit that comes with being divided...

"You wanted everyone to start thinking for themselves." 

Given who the culprit was, it made sense.

Gonta definitely wasn't a prime suspect on anyone's list for this case. And, considering their prior amicable bonds and friendly biases, likely never would've wound up one at all. 

He was just so sweet and gentle; the perfect embodiment of an earnest, kind gentleman.

A boy who wouldn't dare harm a fly  -even, were he not an entomologist. 

And yet...

He strangled someone to death.

Wrapped toilet paper around her fragile neck and squeezed until the avatar went limp on the snowy rooftop. 

…

"Given who the culprit was, I couldn't have any bias seep into my investigation." Shuichi explains solemnly, clenching a shaky hand over his chest "That's why you forcibly declared yourself my partner and pushed Kaito away. You didn't want me doubting any suspicions that I had."

You just...

"You didn't want me to cower behind trust."

…

…

…

Ah, I see.

…

So it's *that* after all, hmm?

Kokichi swallows, a twinge of something bittersweet. 

Two opposing desires; one, unnecessary and the other, deeply unpleasant. 

…You're a real ass, Shuichi. 

He thinks, wishing it was so funny. A new joke to add to the repertoire. 

"Hey, Saihara."

And despite the calm smile on his face, the liar silently dreads his next words. 

(Which surely, he'd come to regret as well. )

"I've let you ramble on about this and that for a while now, yeah?"

The detective nods, albeit, with some reluctance. 

Meanwhile, the cut of the knife burns beneath the bandage. 

"Calling this a game -did you think I wouldn't notice?" 

There's an acute sharpness to his voice, unlike before. Each syllable clearly articulated, even with the rising and falling of his pitch. 

…It sends a shiver up the detective's spine.

"What exactly are you trying to prove, Shuichi?" Kokichi asks, taking a step closer. "That I'm a secretly a goody-goody like the rest of your freak show? Aha."

He can't even bring himself to laugh properly at the absurdity of it. The notion that, even after everything he'd put them through tonight, he was still on their side.

Shuichi, your conclusion this time-

"You have no idea what I've been up to."

-is false. 

"Maybe so," the detective considers, "but...does that really matter?" 

And admittedly, the question takes him aback.

Because of course it mattered.

It was the damn premise of their little song and dance.

It was-

"I thought about it for a while," Shuichi continues, interrupting his train of thought, "and really, the truth isn't that important when it comes to you. It’s the context in which it exists."

Your words.

Your insistence on following the game's rules.

"You said earlier tonight that there are endless possibilities for lies, but only one truth." 

Your desperate actions.

Your unfruitful plans.

"Factually speaking, that's correct. But there's more to truth than cold, hard facts."

There was nuance. 

Emotion -packed into every single aspect.

"I've just demonstrated how a simple event could be interpreted in three different ways." He elucidates, mindful of the thousand dagger stare being directed back at him while cloaked under the professional guise of false calm. "Of course, you have your own version of what happened back during the investigation. But whatever your story may be -whether a lie or truth- doesn't change the facts. It only changes the perception of them."

"..."

"I assume you understand what I'm saying."

It only takes one more step to close the overly short distance between them. For each one to feel the other's heat, and observe the toll of the game. 

Dark circles, pallid complexions on faces long and drawn -more and more were they beginning to resemble their dead allies. Weary, from loss and grief, yet unable to ever fully succumb. 

Hanging by unfulfilled promises that only grew heavier as time passed.

And so-

"Change my perception." 

-Shuichi quietly issues a challenge.

"Convince me that any of those actions had malicious intentions." 

An opportunity -a trap.

"Only then will I acknowledge your win."

In which, there was no escape.

…

And for a moment, all is quiet. The only sounds permeating the dorm, twin ragged breaths.

…

In and out.

In and out.

…

Then a light tremor begins, shaking the leader's small frame. 

A high pitched whimper-like noise breaking free from the spaces between tightly clamped fingers.

…

…

…

But Shuichi isn't fooled.

"Pft–"

And Kokichi *tries* to suppress it.

But man was Saihara impressing him to-night!

Telling sooo many lame jokes one after another -you just keep on surprising me, Shuichi!

Because, really, he- he had to be kidding, right?

That or, maybe he really *had* suffered some type of head trauma on his way over.

"Hey, what’s gotten into you, Shuichi?" The leader manages, shoulders shaking with barely-contained turbulence. "I thought you were supposed to be a detective!"

It takes a moment to sink in, but soon Shuichi finds a light heat rising in his cheeks. Spreading rapidly to the tips of both ears -and suddenly, he can't help feeling a bit ridiculous. "W-Well," he knew better than anyone how outlandish it all seemed. The thought of someone as deranged as Ouma having actual vulnerabilities. Fears and anxieties, just like the rest of them. "I’m still an apprentice but–"

"You should quit!"

The liar exclaims, bursting like a ball of confetti.

"Y-You *clearly* seem to enjoy playing Devil's advocate a lot more."

If only the others could see them now. What kind of faces would they make?

Watching, listening to their beloved detective -their friend attempt to cooperate with the likes of him -a being, filled seemingly with nothing but unfettered malice.

Surely, they'd think Shuichi was crazy too.

"Change your perception?" Kokichi wheezes, imagining their betrayed faces begin to sour one by one. "Are you blind!?"

Yumeno, Shirogane, Kee-boy...

I *especially* don't think spaceboy and killer girl would approve.

He snickers, and then, a brilliant idea-

"Hey! Should I steal a pair of Shirogane's glasses for you?"

Shuichi only stares back, incredulous. As though he can't decide whether to be annoyed or disappointed by the strange question.

"..."

And in the end, he settles for neither. Instead, fixing a look of concentrated neutrality.

Unbothered and patient and yet...

He's not reacting anymore.

…just the *slightest* bit irritating.

"Heyyy!" Kokichi startles him, readjusting his own gaze and stance to match. Vanishing every trace of laughter under scrutiny, and replacing it with incessant prodding at the detective's sternum. "You do realize that since I planned that murder, I didn’t really need to bother investigating it, right?"

It was common sense at this point, Shuichi nodded, the reality that involved persons had no need for investigation. Usually they'd participate anyways, though. If not for appearance's sake, then for the distinct purpose of skewing the facts early on through the planting of false narratives. What made this case intriguing, however, was that Gonta and Kokichi had done neither this time. 

In Gonta's case, it wasn't his fault. Under the affliction of the avatar error, the whole ordeal was simply business as usual for him, as severe as it sounded. 

But Kokichi's behavior, on the other hand, was just strange. 

Bouncing from deprecating to encouraging, clingy to cold. Dropping subtle hints that he knew more than he was letting on, yet withholding all the most important pieces of the puzzle. And sure, the leader was eccentric. Probably the most erratic person Shuichi knew, but, what he wasn't was irrational.

"Pretending to investigate by myself just seemed so boring, y'know?" Kokichi continues, tracing a line up his chest to his chin, practically commanding his absolute focus. "So, I decided to tag along with you!"

A cheeky smirk later, and the detective finds himself preemptively recoiling at the quick jab that barrels for his forehead.

"Bet your overthinking brain didn’t guess it’d be so simple, huh?"

(Unfortunately, he's not quick enough.)

Still, even as the liar teases his overly analytic nature, Shuichi considers his explanation with equal care. The plausibility of him searching to satiate his boredom cross-examined retrospectively with the conduct itself. 

It...fits.

He's forced to admit.

And yet, he doesn't believe it for a second. 

"Why help me then?" So the detective presses further. "Surely, there were other ways to entertain yourself."

More effective ways to combat whatever was likely racing across his unreadable mind.

Better ways of manipulating the unfortunate circumstances to his advantage and yet-

"Yeah, so what?"

Kokichi scoffs.

Had Saihara really expected him to throw a wrench in his investigation?

Or to mislead him down some impossible path from which there was no return?

…Did he even realize how dumb that would be?

"It wasn't my hide on the line tonight."

The leader clarifies anyway, lest Saihara get the wrong idea. 

"And, although feeding you false info would've been suuuuuper hilarious," he drawls, disinterestedly, "I still wanted to live by the end of the trial."

"Hmm..."

The detective acquiesces, with a slight nod of his head.

That...also fit.

For, as much as Ouma tended to mess around during investigations and trials, Shuichi knew well how seriously he really took them. How thoroughly he investigated each case, and pieced together all the information at his disposal. 

-Not a single one of his accusations was baseless.

The detective had come to realize, after some consideration.

They were always backed up with evidence.

"Your reasons may be selfish, Kokichi," Shuichi admits.

Because, through such an unfavorable lens, it was true.

"But there's nothing wrong with wanting to live."

Wanting to secure one's life, even at the expense of others...that was why they fought so hard during each class trial, wasn't it?

Both the spotless and the blackened. 

They wanted to live.

"If you really wanted to hurt us...to hurt Gonta..." he breathes, "you wouldn't have sent him off like that."

Wouldn't have waited until after his death to start proclaiming your supposed lack of care.

"You would've told us about the outside world." 

If not to nullify his sacrifice, then to humiliate him one last time.

"But you didn't."

Saihara says.

Sweetly, as though it could fix everything.

You didn't betray him.

…

…

…

"You're wrong, Shuichi." 

And maybe it's because the conversation is all too familiar.

"Nothing pleases me more than inflicting pain on others."

His heart beats.

Rapidly, painfully.

Their hollow eyes ingrained in his psyche, screaming how unfair it was.

"The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it."

For someone like him to still be alive after that.

…

It occurs to the liar then, that this must be his punishment.

Being tempted with an out -a chance to end things differently.

With Shuichi Saihara, his favorite, no less.

…

But, well, that wasn't really correct, now, was it?

…

No, the real joke was still thinking that such an opportunity existed.

That things could be different; that they could end this without any more sacrifices.

And then-

Shuichi stares.

Thoughtfully, pitifully -it was all the same in the end, wasn't it?

Gaze filled with so much conviction, it momentarily made Kokichi forget his ignorance.

…

There was a reason everyone around them was dropping like flies.

In spite of the promises they made of escape and friendship, they spent their days waiting idly for the next thing to happen. Meanwhile, expecting that nothing would.

-I won't throw it all away for *that*.

And so the liar glares back.

Hostile, rancorous. 

"And you will suffer."

He promises.

It was only a matter of time.

"Hey Boss, what’re you up to?"

He quickly slams the book shut.

Hearts tilts her head inquisitively at the sound. Glances over her shoulder twice. Then peers back down at the sprawled figure on the living room carpet below.

The book is now open to a blank page. Though, Kokichi is quickly filling it with various notes and palm-sized lavender constructions.

"Just doodling designs for our next mission."

He says, as Hearts moves to crouch beside him. 

A teacup.

A deck of playing cards.

And their signature pair of dice in the upper left-hand corner.

She beams.

"Oh, so you’ve decided where we're gonna hit next then? Everyone's gonna be so excited!"

Kokichi pauses for a second and smiles, admiring his handiwork.

"Hmm, I dunno. I think this mission might just be a teeeeensy bit tougher than our last few."

He puts the pen back to paper and sketches in a small danger sign, front and center of the page.

Wondering, a bit anxiously, if she'd already caught on.

Hearts had always been the best at seeing through his lies, after all. Though, she thankfully had enough tact never to say it in front of the others.

Even so, she seemingly only caught on about forty percent of the time. With smaller lies, mostly inconsequential, about his school life or the latest neighborhood gossip.

A few times, however, she'd come dangerously close to something bigger. 

Which was why, even now, he could never fully lower his guard.

It was also his responsibility as a leader, Kokichi thought, not to worry his subordinates unnecessarily. And confessing the true dangers of this next scheme right away, he knew, would only lead them to doubt their own capabilities.

So he downplayed it, convincing himself that it was feasible. That there was absolutely nothing to be worried about.

Maybe...

After all, who could have confidence in a leader who didn't have it in himself?

Maybe...we aren't ready just-

Hearts pulls the pen from between his fingers.

"Don’t worry Boss; it’ll definitely be a success!"

She asserts, hastily drawing a set of confetti poppers on either side of the page. 

"'Cause even if things get hairy..."

The pen comes to a halt.

And when he looks up, a serene smile greets him, along with an outstretched hand.

"You know we've always got your back!"

And...

They had.

Remained faithfully by his side, through both the successes and the failures.

Through the endless nights of planning and exhilarating hours of execution.

They'd followed his lead.

And would continue, he knew, even through the depths of hell.

It then hit him all at once; the name of the curious feeling taking root in his chest.

Blossoming quietly, without his permission.

And Kokichi recognized how risky it was.

How badly things could end should he choose to acknowledge this feeling once more. 

But...he wanted to try.

He...he wanted to trust again.

To have a family once more, in spite of how poorly it ended the first time.

He wanted to burst through the doors of their headquarters and greet them all fondly from the bottom of his heart. Tell them how much they mattered to him, and how grateful he was to have found them all. To listen to their crappy jokes every day and taste their home-cooked meals every evening -he'd give anything. 

This time would be different, he told himself. It wouldn't end in bloodshed and death and everything else that kept him up for hours every night.

This time, things would work out.

He swore, and with that, he took off running. 

Faster -he'd promised to watch that new movie with Joker, after all.

Faster -and play a round of checkers before dinner with Suits.

He ran faster, because he *needed* them to know-

But.

From behind, someone grabs him.

Holds a sweet-smelling cloth to his face and callously mumbles something unintelligible as he kicks his knees out from under him.

…

His consciousness fades.

…

And with it, everything he's ever known.

…

Every warm embrace, every delusion of something better than this life.

They disappear as someone drags him by the collar.

…

Revert back to the dreams they were always meant to be, as he's forcefully shoved into their van.

Left, with nothing more than to succumb to inevitable sleep.

…

…

…

When he next awoke, he was in a small, rectangular metal box.

In a unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people.

Unknown variables, who had the equal potential to both save and destroy him.

In a some messed up game of life and death.

…It was the start of the killing game.

As well as his first encounter with Shuichi Saihara.

"You must be pretty reckless, Shuichi. I’m the Ultimate Supreme Leader, y'know? Nee-heehee..."

"So you say. But does that really mean anything?"

Right from the start, Shuichi had been a skeptic. 

Unsurprising, given his talent, really.

But nonetheless, it was noteworthy.

He looks pretty meek for a detective.

Kokichi judged, picking up on the subtle way the taller male's shoulders hunched as he spoke.

(Not to mention, the distinct lack of eye-contact.)

But he has potential.

To harm or hurt the group -only time would tell.

But for now, the leader contented himself with simply keeping a watchful eye out.

"Then I’ll let you live for now, since I messed up. But I’ll kill you eventually."

"Are you...serious?"

Like a liar, he grinned.

And thus, their game of cat and mouse began.

When Kokichi retired to his room that night, he peeled the detective's photo from the whiteboard and set it apart from all the others.

Branded it with the words Stay Cautious to remind himself, then quickly moved on to other affairs.

He'd find out soon, what detective Shuichi Saihara was really made of.

(Or, in the worst case, die trying.)

But for now-

What's my next move?

Their second encounter was much like the first.

In the front courtyard of the academy, with a tap on the shoulder.

Huh. He's actually back.

The leader had thought dully to himself while accidentally holding his gaze.

What timing.

In his pocket, at the time, sat a deck of cards and a lockpick -both courtesy of the warehouse's top shelves.

The former snagged on a nostalgic whim, while the latter would soon serve a much greater cause.

"What are you here for today? Did you come to beg for your life?"

(Still, Kokichi didn't really mind the interruption.)

Before long, the deck of cards exits his pocket and spreads nicely in an array across his fingers.

The bright red and black suits reminiscent of simpler days.

Clubs and Diamonds always loved playing poker on the veranda during the summer.

Most often, in an attempt to gamble away household chores. 

A few times, Kokichi himself had decided to join them and up the stakes.

For every game they lost, an additional member's chores would be added to their own for a week.

Along, with a little extra twist.

"..."

"..."

(Unsurprisingly, both ended up losing to him every single time.)

"...Hehehe, the power of the Heart of the Cards is strong within me. I drew the number 7!"

The leader smiles, trying not to think of how bored they must be in imprisonment.

And, about how he wishes he could go back to those summer days.

Instead, he offers the deck to the boy in front of him.

And waits.

The detective appears to consider his options briefly, then all at once, plucks a card from the pack.

A dubious expression soon after, spreads from cheek to cheek. Then finally, he flips it for the leader to see-

"Ah. A 7."

-a seven of spades.

"Nee-heeheehee... You truly are an amazing duelist, Shuichi."

The liar claps, thoroughly entertained.

How intriguing.

In his bed, later that afternoon, he ponders the odds while twirling the key to his dorm between his fingers.

Even after hundred of games, he'd only ever tied once -with Queen, at a game of blackjack. 

You've caught my attention now, detective.

He gets up, wandering back over to the board of suspects. 

Let's play again sometime.

By their third date, Kokichi finds himself completely enamored.

"How about you just join my organization?"

He asks casually over a cup of tea, the mood light and, remarkably, pleasant.

Across from him, a pair of beautiful grey-gold eyes harden.

Followed by pink lips curling lightly into a frown soon thereafter.

Then promptly, Shuichi rejects him.

"I could never join some nefarious organization..."

It's a bit disappointing, the liar concedes, but he wasn't one to give up so easy.

"Ughhh, come on!" 

Kokichi groans, while they stroll through the plaza one sunny afternoon.

"If you want, I can let your uncle join too!" 

"That’s not the issue here."

Saihara sighs, exasperated.

The liar only clicks his tongue.

"Why do you even *want* me to join so bad?"

"Because-"

Kokichi starts, but ultimately, is unable to find the proper word for it.

It wasn't as though he could tell him the truth.

That for him, Shuichi was perhaps the most alluring person he'd ever met in this life.

( Not to mention, the prettiest.)

"Because you're not boring!"

He settles on, heat swelling rapidly in his ribcage.

Shit .

"A-And also, as a cop, you’d be able to keep the fuzz off of our trail!"

"..."

Mouth hanging slightly open, the detective blinks for several eternally long seconds, then replies slowly-

"...You do realize that *I* would be the fuzz, right?"

"..."

The leader inhales sharply.

"Yeah."

(He hopes quietly that Shuichi can't hear his heart beating -pounding it's way out of his chest.)

"But you'd never arrest me. Riiiight, my beloved?"

And it was so pure.

So innocent.

So...detached from their gore-y reality filled with anxiety, and ever-looming annihilation.

It...

It was scary.

How fast and deeply he fell for Shuichi Saihara.

A person who defied every last expectation -right from the start.

Shit -dammit why?

Kokichi scowled at the stupid organ attempting to take flight from his thorax.

Why...now?

Why...had Shuichi so kindly taken his hand?

Stay Cautious

Trustworthy?

Why...did he *insist* on making everything so damn difficult?

…

"The game's not over yet, Ouma."

Speaking calmly, tenderly.

Yet again, reaching for his hand.

"You can still stop this."

It screams, from somewhere behind him.

"All you have to do is take it."

"..."

The liar closes his eyes.

All I have to do is take it...huh?

When he opens them again, Saihara's hand is still there.

Waiting patiently, in spite of his stubbornness, as always.

Then...I-

Kokichi breathes.

"I quit."

Chapter Text

"I quit."

The words echo in Shuichi's brain.

Like a bolt of lightning at the start of a storm, they wipe his mind completely and utterly blank.

Quit? Huh?

Ouma snorts, the hostility in his eyes palpable.

And when Shuichi's brain finally catches up, he realizes-

It's slipping.

-that a crack has formed.

Despite his efforts to inject playfulness into their conversation thus far, the leader had grown noticeably more agitated throughout their encounter. And while Shuichi's plan was to keep up this pace, keep pushing and prodding and stoking his sore spots until Ouma eventually capitulated, this wasn't quite the white flag he'd expected him to wave.

He knows he's slipping.

The detective reasons, knowing damn well that the leader wasn't one to quit.

For better or worse, Ouma always finished whatever he started.

And now he's trying to run away.

Shuichi wouldn't let him.

"You can't quit." He says firmly, without room for negotiation. Even if the leader *was* a participant, this was his game and Shuichi was nothing if not determined to see it through. "Or are you ready to start talking?"

"I keep telling you there's nothing to talk about." Ouma insists, dropping all pretense. "Believe what you want. Whether I'm good or bad... I honestly don't care what you think." In the end, Saihara was just going to keep selfishly projecting his own ideals onto him and calling it the "truth" anyway. So be it then. Shuichi could do whatever he wanted. If it helped him sleep at night, he could have his fantasies, his fiction built of beautiful lies. "Just leave me out of it."

In the end, it's useless.

This "game" they were playing...

Shuichi was wasting his time. 

He'd already decided a long time ago how this story would end and the detective extending an olive branch now wasn't going to change that.

Shuichi had made his choice back in the Virtual World...and Kokichi had made his.

Shuichi Saihara was the protagonist of this story.

And he, Kokichi Ouma, was the villain.

To insist otherwise was to undermine everything he'd worked for thus far.

Not that he could entirely blame Saihara; bleeding heart that he was, Kokichi imagined the young detective could learn to even sympathize with the devil. He'd already chosen to cast a lot of friendship with a killer, after all.

But pity, at this point, was just a nuisance. 

Pity wouldn't change anything.

Pity couldn't end this killing game.

...It certainly couldn't save any of its victims.

Since the first drops of blood pooled beneath Amami's head on the library floor, the leader had decided.

"No one will be sad if I die."

To lead them to victory, there was only one role he could assume that assured it.

"Cuz I'm an evil supreme leader, remember? I'm supposed to be suspicious!"

And from there, he'd gotten to work.

In order to embody such a loathsome part, he'd learned to be cunning, to be cruel.

To put on a show that kept them all guessing-

He'd tiptoed a fine line.

He'd set aside his own desires and sympathies. 

Because petty things like emotions had no place in a killing game.

-he knew that that line needed to be crossed.

And after the stunt he'd pulled at the trial tonight, Kokichi was sure of it.

Not a trace of sympathy remained for him.

If there was even a smidge before, the last of it died with Gonta.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"...Do you want to die?"

He'd smirked, malicious and taunting and proud.

"You're alone, Kokichi. And you always will be."

...

And then, Shuichi decided to knock on his door.

Spouting nonsense...

Calling it a game...

In the end, the detective was staking his reputation on nothing more than a delusion, as far as he was concerned.

All to say that a villain like him wasn't wrong...

That he was still human, after everything...

Kokichi had to wonder.

...Would the others ever forgive him if they found out?

"And I'm saying that it's impossible." Shuichi takes a dangerous step closer, sending every nerve on high alert. "Kokichi, you-"

"You don't get it, do you?"

It takes everything the liar has left in him to hold back. 

Truly, as nice as the detective's intentions were, there was a limit.

"Then explain it to me."

"There's nothing to explain."

What was it all for?

The late nights that turned into early mornings...

The hours and hours of work spent pouring, agonizing over the smallest details...

All the drawings and the sketches and the notes...

The deductions on the whiteboard...

The still-incomplete script...

"There is!" 

Every piece of evidence he gathered and piled away on his desk...

Every lie he ever told in order to get here...

"None of it makes any sense unless-"

The end of the killing game was finally within his reach.

The lights were on, and the stage was ready.

All that was left now was to pull back the curtains and set the scene for the leads.

The final showdown against Monokuma, his last dance for the audience...

Right when I finally have everything I need to put a stop to it-

"-that too is a lie."

...He was being asked casually to give it up.

All his plans. All his resolve.

"It's not."

As though they were nothing.

"Please let Gonta sacrifice himself...for everyone's sake."

"Just promise Gonta...that everyone forgive each other and be friends. Okay?"

"Gonta love you all...!"

As though...they didn't mean a goddamn thing.

"Then why..."

"Ah-hahahaha! Oh man, did you fall for all that fake crying?"

"I would never cry for Gonta!"

"Who cares about that idiot!?"

A hurricane swarms his thoughts. Actions past and present collide, reminding him of the trail of death and betrayal that had brought them to this very moment.

"You're alone, Kokichi. And you always will be."

"...are you giving up?"

Shuichi finishes. 

It didn't sit right with him.

Watching the liar give up so easily after all they'd endured, he knew he couldn't just let it end like this.

So even if the leader hated him for it, even if this was the last conversation they'd ever have, he wouldn't give up.

He wouldn't accept any more refusals, nor any more attempts to evade him.

Here and now, as the Ultimate Detective, he was going to pry the truth from him even if-

"Let's get one thing straight between us, detective."

Kokichi cuts through his thoughts. Tongue sharp as a freshly polished blade, he fixes him with an indecipherable look. 

"This isn't a game; it's an interrogation."

His face and tone perfectly impassive.

"And unfortunately for you, I don't owe you or anyone answers for anything."

Unnerved, the detective opens his mouth to refute it. But the liar is quicker.

"This little act of yours was cute." He says, voice switching to something light. Something sweet, something mocking. "Really, you might want to consider a career change with chops like that!" He smiles.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it all disappears again.

"But...it's time to close the curtain before you regret it."

-It was a promise the leader was willing to keep.

Even if Saihara begged and screamed and cried, this was the second time tonight. 

Using his own words, his own tactics against him...

Kokichi wasn't sure if he was oblivious or just that conniving.

Either way, he had to admire the detective's sheer audacity.

If he knew what was best for him, Saihara would turn around now and go back to his room, sleep off these dumb ideas of...what? Being a hero? Saving him from himself?

The very prospect of it made him want to laugh.

Still, Kokichi entertains the thought for a moment, an alternate universe where Shuichi got everything he ever wanted.

A confession.

The truth he so desperately sought.

An end to the mind games he never knew he'd been winning.

In that reality, all of Kokichi's plans would be laid bare for the detective's eyes. And together, they could workshop them to perfection.

The liar could picture it now:

The two of them, alone in his room. Shuichi organizing the evidence on his bed while he, amidst doodles, drew up fresh theories on the whiteboard. 

"How have you kept quiet about all this for so long?" 

While rifling through a stack of his nonsensical notes, the Ultimate Detective would frown.

The sheer volume of it would be overwhelming at a glance. Boxes upon boxes of notes, drawings and other distractions he'd found in the warehouse would littering the floor between his desk and the whiteboard. And within them, a multitude of trinkets, media and secrets lay, just waiting to be discovered. A misplaced set of card game rules, a ray gun prototype design, a summary of the vile, yet oddly entertaining morning announcements -he'd kept record of it all. And while he knew some (Shuichi) would chastise him and call the whole scene a crime against cleanliness, others (he) would be quick to correct them with the far more appropriate term: organized chaos.

After all, madness though it may seem to the untrained eye, there *was* a method to it.

"The truth is, I'm an excellent poker player."

He had to admit -he'd get a kick out of watching the other's face sour.

"...?!"

Though, he was certain Shuichi would understand once he explained.

"The secret to getting by in this kind of game is knowing when to play your cards and when to hold them tight to your chest."

Show your cards too soon and it was the same as handing your opponent a free victory.

-But there was more to winning than simply the decks at hand. 

"Every player who dares call themselves a pro knows it."

Before the cards are even distributed, the game is afoot. 

Any hand could become a winner if the wielder was smart about it.

-It was as their dear Amami had said before his untimely demise.

"It's not about outfoxing everyone in this killing game, it's about ending the game itself."

He could guess this wouldn't satisfy the detective, however.

"We could have saved people with some of this!"

"Maybe."

But others would have surely had to die in their place.

Given what happened with their enigma of an Ultimate, Kokichi was sure of it.

Whoever the Mastermind was, they wouldn't allow them to put on a boring show.

So before he played his hand, he had to be sure-

"We have to tell the others."

-that he could pull off a winning bluff.

"No."

It was still too soon. 

These things required extensive preparation and forethought. Where there was information, there was risk and with so many unknowns still floating around, it couldn't possibly be worth it.

He would argue, but the detective wouldn't have it.

Having spent time with the others, Shuichi had grown accustomed to their warmth, their camaraderie. And despite how many times he'd been proven foolish for it, Kokichi *knew* that he trusted them.

By now, Shuichi surely subscribed to that idiot's philosophy that trust was something given to be broken rather than earned. And while he vehemently disagreed with him, the liar knew himself well.

"You may not be able to trust the others right away...but will you trust me?"

"..."

When that time came, Kokichi couldn't say for certain what he'd do.

A part of him would like to believe he'd stand his ground and reject such an outrageous request without a second thought. After all, the true Mastermind was still among them.

Watching, waiting for them to mess up.

It was already a huge risk sharing his findings with one other person, let alone many. And the leader knew that he'd never forgive himself if things ended badly.

But likely...

"Fine..."

Because it was Shuichi asking him, he would try.

To clean up his act and re-integrate himself into the group, for his sake, Kokichi would try to be a little more honest. A little more open.

And maybe...maybe they wouldn't be friends exactly...but...

"Good morning, Ouma!"

"We're making pancakes in the dining hall for breakfast today."

"You should join us!"

...

Only Maki wouldn't forgive him. Maybe Kaito too, given how things ended between them earlier.

"I told you."

But Shuichi would smile at him.

If only he took his hand.

Yeah, right.

The liar thinks, what a lovely delusion *that* would be.

Here's how that scenario would *really* go-

While they pilfered through his collection together, Shuichi would find something. 

A piece of scrap paper with an old theory.

A piece of evidence that no longer fit.

The brave detective would then come to a realization.

"We have to tell the others."

And Kokichi, without thinking twice, would promptly shut him down.

"No."

Everything would remain the same until that point. 

Until the Ultimate Detective asked the ultimate question:

"Will you trust me?"

From there, it would happen gradually.

It would start with Shuichi bringing another person to one of their meetings. Himiko, perhaps, having deemed her as the safest bet amongst the list of potential mastermind candidates. He wouldn't like it, of course; even if she *wasn't* the mastermind, he didn't trust the little mage to understand, nor to keep her mouth shut. But that, he knew, would be the least of his worries.

After a while, a second person (or third, if he started with the detective) would enter the mix.

Then another. And another.

And at first, it'd feel good. To share the burden with others, to understand each other. Maybe, at some point, he'd actually delude himself into believing this *was* a good thing.

That Shuichi was right.

Precisely then, the Mastermind would strike.

*ding dong, dong, ding*

A fresh victim would hit the floor.

And a new trial would commence.

However, unlike the previous four, this chapter had a forgone conclusion.

For daring to defy the game master, whether it was he or his beloved-

One of us would have to die.

If the Mastermind loved Shuichi, the leader could kiss his plans goodbye on the way down to hell.

Shuichi would have to start from scratch. 

And there was nothing he could do anymore to stop it.

But if somehow the Mastermind hated him more still...

If they wanted revenge for his attempt at usurping their throne...

A knife in his heart.

Bloodshot eyes gone dull and grey.

Red trickling down his arms, oozing thickly from his lips.

...

Either way...this could only ever end in tragedy.

No matter who was left standing, it would all be over.

With Shuichi gone, the Mastermind would get their wish. They'd blame him as the boy detective's closest confidant and despite all his big talk, he wouldn't have the spirit to refute it.

Game Over.

Total annihilation -a true spectacle of a finale.

And if *he* were the one to go...he could only guess how they would frame it. A boring end to an utterly pointless existence.

Game Over.

A truly spectacular failure.

"No." Shuichi shakes his head, as though he could deny it. "That's wrong."

It wasn't pointless. If it was, he wouldn't be trying.

Once upon a time, he'd thought to himself that there were only seven of them left. But the detective knew now that that was the wrong way to look at it.

There were still seven of them left, seven people that could yet evade a gruesome end -one of which stood before him now, looking admittedly worse for wear, but very much alive.

"I'm gonna survive! I'm gonna make it no matter what!"

He'd proclaimed it himself, at the start of the game, that he'd see it through to the bitter end.

Ouma was stubborn like that. So he'd repeat it as many times as it took.

"You don't get to decide that!" 

What choices he made, what regrets he had at the end of them -all of those were Shuichi's alone to bear.

And one thing was for sure-

"I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, Kokichi." He announces his intentions with conviction, boldly grabbing the other boy's hand.

-he wasn't going to add another mistake to his list tonight by letting him go.

If he won't take my hand....

Then, as someone else had done for him so seemingly long ago...

"With you by my side, I feel like I can stand up to anything."

...I'll just take his instead.

Because, for as much as Kokichi could lie about everything else, his hand was warm.

His pulse was still beating.

And, for now, that was all Shuichi needed.

"You’re gonna be waiting a long time, then."

The leader glares at him with a passion that could rival the Ultimate Assassin's as he jerks his hand back to his side.

Though the gesture noticeably throws him further off-kilter.

...Shit.

In spite of himself, in spite of everything that had happened tonight, Kokichi can feel the sun steadily rising in his cheeks.

Warming his face and ears.

Burning him from the inside out.

And feeling it, he knows the detective can see it too.

What he's doing to him, what he does to him every time he faces him with such straight-forward sincerity.

Something that someone like him could never reciprocate.  

It's enough to make the liar hate himself. To make him wish that the floor beneath him would open up and swallow him whole, leaving not a trace of his pathetic existence behind. 

But despite the robotic murder bears and the impossible death contraptions that surrounded them, Kokichi knew such a wish would never be granted. 

So, instead, he makes a decision.

I need to end this. 

Before it was too late. 

Before he accidentally let slip what was *really* on his mind.

"Will you trust me?"

With the way his heart was acting tonight, he knew it wouldn't be much longer.

I...

The truth was, he should've never opened that door.

It had all been a mistake. The trial, the game -all of it.

...I'm sorry, Shuichi.

It was doomed from the start.

After all, though the detective claimed to be an ally of the truth, Kokichi knew better than anyone.

"I went to the salon to check on you. But you weren't there."

...

Reaching for the door handle, he feels something inside him break all over again. No matter how the detective frustrated him, he couldn't deny the sting in his chest, the way his heart thumped miserably, craving the boy's cool palm against his own clammy one. Reminding him that no matter how much he longed for it tonight, there was no off-switch, no reset button that could erase these feelings.

You're a liar, just like me.

So he severs it. 

"Go back to your room, Shuichi." Kokichi breathes, looking into those pretty eyes one last time. "You lost."

Before the detective can squeak out another word, he steps back and pulls the door closed behind him. Feeling hollow, but proud, at least, to have gone out on his own terms.

This too, he knew, would pass and become a fleeting memory. A sweet dream amidst the sea of nightmares plaguing his nights.  

In the morning -late morning, Saihara would see reason again, he was sure, and return to their side where he belonged.

And he...he'd get back to plotting and scheming their demise.

...

...

...

At least, that was how things were *supposed* to go.

...Huh?

But it was a little hard to make a dramatic exit when the door refused to cooperate.

What the-

At this point, he shouldn't have been surprised.

...!

Shuichi defying his expectations...that was the norm, wasn't it? And yet-

"..."

"..."

Really..?

Unamused, the leader fixes the detective with a hard stare, then slams the door a second time.

"...-!"

"..."

Still, the damn thing doesn't close.

"..."

"..."

Quietly, Kokichi sighs to himself.

-He couldn't believe they were really about to do this.

Squaring his shoulders, he then closes his eyes, takes in a breath and very calmly warns him.

"Get your foot out of this door before I shove one of mine up your ass, Shuichi." 

"No!" But the detective stubbornly denies him. "Not until you listen to me first!"

If a crushed foot was what it took, Shuichi was prepared to suffer through it. 

He wouldn't let the leader get away again. Not this time.

Taking a deep breath, Kokichi steels himself, then opens his eyes once more.

You asked for it.

If Shuichi wanted to talk, he could talk.

It didn't mean that *he* was going to listen.

Let's see how much you still want to talk by the end of this.

In a swift motion, the leader rams his body against the back of the door, using the force of his weight as leverage. Small though his body may be, he knows it's enough to make it hurt more than the prior door slams. And in fact, the blow elicits a small yelp from the detective.

Still think I'm such an angel, Saihara?

Yet still, it's not enough to get the boy to budge a single centimeter.

But Ouma had been prepared for that. And while the detective was still cringing from the pain, he spins his body to face forward and begins his relentless assault.

"...!"

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Childish though it may be, he couldn't deny its effectiveness and relished in the way Saihara cringed with each stomp. 

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Still, the detective refused to withdraw.

That won't work!

He could see the vision, the leader's aim: cause him enough pain for him to want to pull back, then slam the door in his nose the second he gave in.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

But he was prepared for it. And no pain would be enough for him to pull his foot from that damn doorway. Not tonight.

I won't let you quit this game!

Slamming two open palms on the front of the door, Shuichi puts up his own form of resistance. Squaring his shoulders and steadying his other leg, he becomes an immoveable wall to the other's impenetrable fortress and uses the decimeter of height he has over the leader to his advantage.

As he does so, his heart and mind race like never before. 

This was it.

Their conversation until now had just been the prelude.

But this-

...!

"You..." Kokichi grumbles from the other side of the door, breath growing increasingly labored, "...don't know when to give up...do you?"

-this was the climax!

Seizing the opening, Shuichi pushes back twice as hard. 

The leader groans in response, but refuses to let up on the pressure.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

He keeps up a steady rhythm.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Though the action takes its toll.

Maybe he'd made a mistake choosing small burst-style attacks over a decisive shove. 

Maybe the real mistake was ever thinking this was going to be easy.

He'd already been running on fumes since before he'd ever opened the door and he could feel his lack of sleep catching up to him with every blow.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

But he couldn't quit. Not tonight.

Not for this game.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Shuichi knew it wouldn't be long now.

Ouma was growing tired, he'd could feel it. The stomps were getting imprecise, often missing half of his foot, and less impactful despite their steady rhythm. With every passing second, the detective could hear the boy's body straining to keep up from behind the door, to hold his ground. And unfair though it may be, it a weakness he was willing to exploit.

A minute longer, maybe two and then-

Now!

With another push, the door opens a little wider.

But while it was a good sign, it didn't guarantee that Ouma wouldn't soon turn the tables back on him. 

And so, while he had the opportunity, Shuichi had to tell him.

"Up until tonight, I thought you were a real jerk, Kokichi." He begins through gritted teeth. "A person who thrives on the suffering and misery of others."

Behind the door, the leader grunts in disapproval.

He was all of those things and so much more.  

"Even after hanging out with you on multiple occasions, I couldn’t understand who you were or what kind of intentions you had." Shuichi presses on. "On one hand, you kept saying stuff like you were gonna kill me if I lost at one of your games. But then, you would turn around and claim that you deliberately prolonged them by forcing stalemates."

Sweat drips from the liar's aching muscles.

He was getting tired. He was growing weak.

Shut up!

Kokichi grinds his teeth.

So what if he enjoyed their games? 

So what if he'd used them to keep the detective hostage just a little while longer?

Shit!

He finds himself slipping, the door yielding, the detective too close.

At this rate, he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

The liar curses. But the wave of another push finally forces him to switch gears.

Abandoning the stomping, he elects to dig whatever's left of his heels into the ground. Though it does little to achieve his desired effect.

This is all that idiot's fault!

He swears, forced to concede that the detective's midnight training sessions in the courtyard hadn't been in vain. Saihara didn't even have to try, by the looks of it. Meanwhile, his own useless body couldn't even properly struggle enough to-

...!

The door rattles against him. And by the time he's realized Shuichi, too, has thrown his weight along the door in opposition, the detective closes in on him.

"Your actions directly contradicted your words; it was no wonder I couldn't understand you."

Of course!

He wanted to scream.

No matter how many times he'd proclaimed himself a liar, nobody ever doubted anything he said except the truth.

Because lies were convenient.

Lies were pretty.

The truth had no place in their narrative.

All *his* trial did was confirm it.

How sad.

Kokichi could hear the mirror laughing at him now. 

"Of course I couldn’t, because I... I wasn’t even trying." Shuichi shakes his head. And though it pains him to admit it, he knows it to be the truth. "I thought I was but...after giving it some serious thought, I realized just how half-assed I’ve been about it this whole time."

Whether it be in regards to his investigations or his interpersonal relationships, he knew now why it always ended in tragedy. 

Why he'd only ever been useful after it was too late.

The answer had always been in front of him all along.

"I...truthfully, I still don’t understand you fully, Kokichi." He pleads, his own exhaustion finally catching up with him as he neared the finish line. "But after finally sitting down and thinking about it properly for the past couple of hours, I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re not the villain you make yourself out to be."

In truth, he wasn't a villain at all.

"So please, tell me why..."

Shuichi presses him.

Balling his hands into fists.

The door grows wider.

"Why do you... Why is it that you..."

He pushes him. And pushes.

Until at last, his overwhelming strength topples all remaining resistance and- 

"...are trying to make us believe that you’re the mastermind?"

"...!"

-the door opens.

...

...

...

In that moment, time ceases.

"You..." Kokichi swallows, and breathing hard, straightens his back, "think...this an act?"

"I do." Shuichi replies without hesitation. "I know that this is just another one of your lies, Kokichi."

The leader stills.

...

All at once, his shoulders begin to shake with the low rumble of laughter, barely contained in his tiny frame. 

...

Foolishly, Shuichi attempts to reach for his shoulder when-

"I could kill you right now," the leader threatens, whipping around and suddenly producing a tiny switchblade at the detective's neck. "I’m sure I could get away with it too. After all, without everyone's favorite nerd to solve the mystery, we both know they would flounder and wind up killing themselves during the trial." 

-the other sneers, deadly serious.

Any other night, he would've cowered away.

Would've called it quits and turned tail at the first sign of real danger.

But even if it was irrational, even if he was somehow wrong about everything...

"You wouldn’t kill me, Kokichi." Shuichi affirms with a soft smile. "It goes against your principles."

The leader sharpens his gaze and presses the edge of the blade into the other's neck. "I’m the heartless mastermind, Shuichi. I don’t have principles."

If the detective still insisted on doubting him, then here was his proof -proof that he was ready to get his hands dirty wherever and whenever in order to see this through.

"You're not the monster you pretend to be." Saihara continues, unwavering, watching him with those piercing eyes. "You’ve definitely done some unforgivable things, but...you’re a good person at heart."

His grip on the knife tightens.

"Did you forget, detective? I’ve said it before, but good people can still kill, y’know!" He thought of Gonta, sweet, gentle Gonta who’d immediately regretted it. Gonta, who'd wept throughout the entire trial while he laughed, only to smile at him and wish him the best at the very end. "We've already seen that soo many times since Kaede. So why can’t any of you idiots get it through your thick skulls already?!"

Shuichi flinches back. But he isn't finished.

"You’re all hypocrites. You say that you wanna end this. You claim that you’d *never* stoop to murder, but the next will be the fifth class trial, Shuichi. And all because your precious little miss let’s-all-be-friends-and-cooperate Akamatsu was a goddamn hypocrite who selfishly decided to get the ball rolling."

"Don't-"

They were still vivid in Shuichi's mind, memories of the sweet and delicate pianist who took his hand and offered him words of comfort and encouragement back when no one else would. Smiling at him softly, she was the first to seek out the face he’d so carefully kept hidden under his cap and the ugly truth of his cowardly self that came with it. Still, even after hearing his story, she didn't dismiss him or his feelings. She didn't turn away.

"I believe in you, so you should definitely believe in yourself!"

He distinctly remembered the way her fluffy blonde hair cascaded just past her shoulders, the melody in her voice whenever she called his name, a faint rosy blush high in her cheeks. Her words, always as kind and beautiful as she was, yet firm, had embraced his timid self and sparked hope in his once pathetic heart.

And then...she killed Rantaro Amami.

She smiled and, while smiling, brutally forced his hand to condemn her.

To lay her soul bare for them.

Even so, Shuichi adored the Ultimate Pianist.

"It may be the end of me, but I want my wish to... I’m giving it to you, Shuichi."

He could barely see her at the end, vision blurred by tears that wouldn't stop flowing, but he knew.

At the end, she’d been smiling too.

As frightened as she must've been, she pushed it down and laughed in the face of death for him –for all of them, knowing that she'd been able to pass on her promise.

"I'm leaving everything up to you, Shuichi. ...Goodbye."

A cold, cruel metal collar then snapped around her neck.

And in an instant, she was gone. 

Whisked away to the last stage she'd ever get to play on, instead, she was made to dance for them all like a puppet. Hopping from one key to the next as a cheerful little tune echoed across the trial room, the noose tightened. Her face purpled. Until, at last, her once soft, warm body went cold and limp.

Even then, it wasn't over. At least, not for Monokuma.

The jaws of the piano smashed her corpse to a bloody pulp, ensuring nothing remained.

Not a trace of her smile, or the bright girl she used to be.

Only...

Shuichi dropped to his knees. 

He hadn't noticed before, but she'd slipped something into his hands on her way out.

This is-

One of her hairpins.

A single note.

Proof that no matter the hardship, there was always a deep melody playing in her heart.

Proof that she was rooting for them.

Ouma scoffs, flashing him a smug grin. "You know that I’m right, Shui–"

"Don’t you dare talk like any of this of this is Kaede's fault!" He shouts. Feeling his face warm, the detective blinks back a few tears of genuine upset. Ouma may not have been the mastermind, but he certainly was still the biggest jerk he knew. 

"She killed someone, Saihara." Ouma's face quickly morphs into a mirror of his own as he continues to argue. "No matter how nice you *think* she was, she still did it. And whether you like it or not, her actions are what officially made us participants."

"Her intent was to end this game!"

"Her intent doesn’t matter! As a detective, you should know that better than anyone."

Shuichi opens his mouth to retort, but swallows the words before they could ever leave his lips.

He remembered well the case that had gotten him his Ultimate Detective title.

The killer who's fate he’d sealed, even against everyone's wishes.

Dammit!

"What, no clever rebuttal this time? You're getting more boring by the second, Saihara." Rolling his eyes, the leader huffs and hastily withdraws his knife at last. Sliding it back up his sleeve, he breaks eye contact and nudges the door forward again. "Now, if we're done here, you can take your theories and- "

Suddenly, the world flips.

Chapter Text

"-glh!"

In an instant, the leader finds himself pinned to the ground.

...?!

Head swimming with stars. Body battering the cold, gray tiles below.

He struggles to make sense of it.

Another unexpected situation.

Another anomaly he'd failed to account for tonight.

How was it possible?

A sharp knee digs itself mercilessly into his chest.

Blinding pain strikes him, knocking the wind from his already overworked lungs.

But before Kokichi even has the chance to react, their hands are on him.

Slotting familiarly into place, squeezing all-too tender bruises.

Recognition hits the leader like a bad dream.

Shit-

Ruby eyes glow in the dim light above him.

Twin flames burning with poorly leashed hatred.

They could only belong to one person.

"Maki!" Shuichi shrieks, every hint of anger leaving his system at once.

It was *exactly* the kind of panic Kokichi had longed to see from him all night.

And yet, occupied as he was, he couldn't even enjoy it.

"I heard shouting." The assassin speaks in a low, menacing growl. Her glare alone would've easily been enough to slaughter any other poor soul who so happened to cross her path tonight. But unlike Shuichi, she wasted no time getting down to business. "Now spill it, asshole." Her hands grip his neck firmly, assuring the both of them it wouldn't be so easy to escape her grasp this time around. "What did you do to Shuichi?"

"I didn’t do anything!" Kokichi hisses back. He can feel a tiny shard of glass he'd missed earlier cutting into his knuckle as he takes hold of her wrists and resists with what little remained of his strength. But it was no good. "Ooor maybe I did?" Black spots were quickly beginning to dot his vision. And, though the ringing in his ears was nothing new, he'd needed to strain to hear the bitter grunt that fell from her lips. Still, the leader found it in him to smile in her face and spit. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

"Do you want to die?"

Predictably, Maki seethes.

How he had the guts to smile at her in his position, she'd never understand. But then again, she didn't need to.

Increasing the pressure on his chest, she makes her stance brutally clear.

She didn't have time for his jokes.

And she certainly had no qualms about killing him on the spot if she needed to.

"Wait, Maki!" Shuichi cries, placing a frantic hand on her shoulder as he tries to explain. "He really didn’t do anything for once; we were just arguing!"

Kokichi rolls his eyes.

The 'for once' wasn’t really necessary. But given the ever-increasing burden on his lungs and windpipe, he decided it better to hold that snark back.

"Nice try, Shuichi." Maki responds calmly, keeping her focus on the squirmy figure below. Narrowing her eyes, she observes his prone form and assesses. "He was trying to kill you, wasn’t he?"

"N-No!" The detective stammers, shaking his head. "It’s a misunderstand–" 

But his words fell on deaf ears.

"Then why is there blood trickling down your neck right now?"

From the moment she'd seen him, Maki had already made up her mind.

Instinctively, Shuichi touches a few fingers to his neck and, sure enough, they come back dyed in red.

Oh-

Maybe it was the adrenaline.

Or maybe, in spite of their argument, he'd just had that much confidence that the other wouldn't harm him that he hadn't noticed it until now.

I...

However, given the situation, he could no longer outright refute it.

What can I do to make her understand?

Maki, meanwhile, had moved on from a simple hold to a full-body search. Sacrificing a hand around the leader's neck, she shook off his grip and began patting down his pockets and sleeves. Starting from the top of his shoulders, she slid her fingers into every open slit until she'd recovered the bloody weapon in record time. Angrily, she shot the detective a look. 

This is what you're defending?

She slid the pocket knife over to him, not bothering to watch as it skidded before coming to a halt at his feet. 

"..." 

Shuichi was at a loss.

It was a strange thing to look at a knife that had been pointed at him not even five minutes ago, its edge coated in a thin film of blood.

His blood. 

So he really did...

He could feel the sting now, where Ouma had cut him.

A papercut that would undoubtably disappear come morning.

...I understand.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself?" Zeroing back in on the leader, Maki resumes her double-handed grip on his neck.

Still, the bastard has the nerve to smirk at her. 

What’s wrong with him?

She could scarcely imagine it through her blind rage.

Hadn't he wreaked enough havoc tonight? 

Two more people had died because of him.

Kaito, and now Shuichi, were both injured at his hand.

Hadn't he had enough yet?

She couldn't understand it.

"I should've p-picked an easier target." Kokichi laughs, mocking her. But to his ears alone, it rings hollow. The room was now spinning. His vision was becoming spottier by the second, and killer girl's last question suddenly felt so far away. It was as though as soon as she'd asked it, he'd been plunged into a cold swimming pool, the world around him blurring, the voices melting to nothing but muddled static. The leader remembered the feeling well –it was the same disorientation he'd felt only four days ago after greeting the floor during the investigation of Yonaga and Chabashira's murders. Shinguji's murders.

Stupid Harukawa.

Why’d she have to remind him?

"He’s lying, Maki." The detective explains, exasperated. Though he had to commend the leader's ability to persist in being a huge pain-in-the-ass even while his life was being threatened, for both of their sakes, he couldn't allow him to keep taking credit for this. "Kokichi didn’t call me here; I came because I wanted to talk to him about something. This is my fault, not his."

"That doesn’t change the fact that he still attacked you." Glaring down at the menace below her, still grinning as though he was having the absolute time of his life, Maki felt an intense urge to snap his neck. "He’s evil, Shuichi." She was convinced. Orchestrating murder... Hurting her friends... "He proved as much during yesterday's trial."

"No, Maki please– you have to listen to me! Kokichi, he’s..."

Suddenly, an idea occurs to him.

Right, if she won’t listen to me...

Shuichi perks up, realizing there may yet be a way to salvage the night.

A solution so simple, he wanted to kick himself for not realizing it sooner.

...then maybe this might do the trick!

Pulling the notebook out from under his arm, he quickly flips to the beginning.

The start of his doubts-

The conclusions he'd come to-

Holding the book out, he desperately urged her to read it all.

"..."

"..."

For a moment, the girl stares back at him quizzically, as if trying to assess his intentions. Her ruby gaze is piercing. And though he knows deep down that all she wants is to protect him, he couldn't deny how chilling it felt.

He could recall the first time he'd ever seen that look in her eyes, back when Ouma exposed her talent. At the time, all he could think of was how different it was compared to the culprit in his first ever homicide case.

And yet, he knew they were the eyes of a killer. 

The longer she stared, the harder it was to think of her as anything but. 

"..."

"..."

Sighing at last, Maki reaches out her hand.

Sensing his unease, she decides that she could at least indulge him for a bit.

The immediate threat had already been subdued. And while she knew Ouma was a crafty little fucker, something told her he wouldn't dare try any more tricks in his current state.

...

So, reluctantly, she lets go.

First one hand to grab the notebook from Shuichi's outstretched hands, then the other to begin paging through it.

...

Quickly, her expression shifts. In her hands were pages and pages of notes, all relating to the devil below her. And yet, though each line listed the exact words and actions she remembered, she found that the detective's interpretation differed very much from her own. "What is this?" A strange mix of confusion and disappointment was welling up in her chest as she read on. Shaking her head lightly from side to side, Maki wondered how he could be so naive. Despite being shown again and again, he still-

But when she looks up, the detective stands firm.

(In the background, the so-called Supreme Leader could be heard coughing and gasping for air having now reclaimed his windpipe, but she didn’t particularly care.)

"You can’t be serious, Shuichi." 

The skepticism was clear in her voice.